I find myself busy
With nothing much to do
The days pass by quickly
With me always on the move

From one day to another
And on into the next
Busy at doing nothing
Without any rest

Getting nothing done
With all the in-between
Slipping as I'm sliding
In the shape of staying busy

And a busy man I am
With nothing much at all
Thinking that I do
When I really don't

In the frame of mind
Of busy all the time
Always on the hunt
Of what I'm trying to find

With not a thing to do
Either here or make believe
How could I ever lose
When I find I'm this busy