I have things to do
but I'm not sure what,

I got an early morning fugue
trying to find out who I am
and it's not yet breaking dawn
what was my name when I was born?

the fog lifts
the fugue departs
hell and all the handcarts
have rolled away
and today
I have things to do.

She sees through me
I must be paper-thin,
think again She says to me
and strokes my double chin,

but we are as we are
and to be fair
as we are has got me this far
so
no complaints from me.