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Bound for somewhere down the road, With a heavy load on this ever-racing mind.
Too much cooking on my stove, I’ve stewed myself a traffic jam inside.
There’s a junction up ahead, And I’m trying to read the signs, but this traffic’s made me blind
And I’m a scientist with far too many metaphors, And far too little data to conclude in time

And you, you are the indecision maker, You, you are the path unknown.
And I, I am the great procrastinator, Pondering my way home.

I’ve been busy as a beaver and I’ll be damned, If I don’t ease the flow
My big fish’ll pass me by, If I don’t make my mind up damn pronto
So I took a hike on Offa’s dyke, With a song stuck in my head, And a blister on my toe.
I left my baggage on the bed, Brought my cobwebs and to England they must blow.

And you, you are the mystery tour enlister, You, you are the sights untold.
And I, I am the great procrastinator, Stalling in the road

And you, you are the problem instigator, You, you are cryptic code,
And I, I am the great procrastinator, Puzzling on my own.
Oh I, I am the great procrastinator, Squandering chances as I roam.
I am the great procrastinator, Pondering my way home.

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