The List Testo

Eight blocks away would put you at the water towers from my place
What's the difference when you calculate by crunching numbers, crunched up eyelids
600 miles--that's 45 hours, I tried to count the space in a million yellow dashed lines
And my gas tank's just empty
I don't have the balls, or where with all, or the cash to fill it again
So I guess it's best I stick around the house
Measured my days and metered my years and fears and muscle tensions
Meals and the beds that I slept in
Tried to give a few decent gifts or scribble a few things off the list,
But it still goes something like this:
Clean your desk, write your ex, do the dishes and your taxes, throw the shit you don't need away.
Call the (?) about the fast food scam, write to Adam,(?) for Greg, throw the beer bottles and cans away, fix the dirt under my (???)
There's never enough time, never enough time
We dont' have all the hands we need
There's not enough yous or me to be all the places we want to
There's never enough time, never enough time
To stifen these anxieties onto the do list of (???)