All these things you're doing - why can't you see
I want to take it easy - these things are not for me
People I thought I knew are passing me at lightning speed
Their faces are coloured from the strain of what they have to do
chorus:
Call me lazy bones, tell me I'm no good
I don't mind at all, I'm doing fine
I'm in no respect organized - I don't want to be
I refuse to be projectized - these things are not for me
I want to be free to do the things I want to when I want to
How could I know what I will want to do next week
how could I, how could I
