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

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