Waiting to Talk

Everybody's talking
 Nobody's listening
 And everybody's sweating
 And nobody's glistening
 Nobody knows what he's thinking
 Doesn't really step out even when he's drinking
 And it seems kind of creepy, seems like the type that stalks
 Nobody knows when he's sinking
 Always looks so pensive whether or not he's thinking
 To him it seems, to him it screams
 That everyone's just waiting to talk
 And everyone's waiting to talk
 Lord, it's all so terribly awkward
 On the verandas in the front halls
 In the bus station's bathroom stalls
 Yes, it seems that everyone's just waiting to talk
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 What must he be thinking?
 Can we even guess?
 He's not really linking
 Himself with the rest
 Does he know our big secret?
 Has one of us confessed?
 'Bout the wires, circuits and motors
 That are buried in our chest
 And it's all just a pointless equation
 This parabolic conversation
 Like two distinct lines
 Never the 'twain shall meet
 Never? No, never
 Nobody knows what he's thinking
 Doesn't really step out, even when he's drinking
 Yes, to him, it seems to certain extremes
 That everyone's just waiting to talk
 And everyone's waiting to talk
 Lord, it's all so terribly awkward
 Everybody's talking
 Nobody's listening
 Everybody's sweating
 Nobody's glistening
 And so it seems that
 Everyone's just waiting to talk