Everybody says they hate the sound of their own voice
But I'll admit that I prefer mine to any other noise
So does that make me self-absorbed or do I even have a choice?
It's probably both, but I keep talking either way

In the haze of glowing screens we pin our thoughts to message boards
Disregarding countless ideas tied upon the thread before
And so we miss the irony that ours will also be ignored
Are we content to merely shout out into space?

In cathedrals with stained windows people whisper quiet prayers
To a god that listens well because no one knows if he's there
But we don't bother to investigate because we are too scared
If there's no god, then who will tell us it's okay?

All the lefties dream their jerseys will majestically ascend
To the rafters of arenas where we celebrate dissent
Where we talk of revolution while consuming all we can
The game's not what you do; it's only what you say
And I know how to play

So we keep our hands raised high and we all silently yearn
To be the next who's called upon to show what we have learned
Because no one really listens we just all wait for our turn
Our minds our clogged with all the things we plan to say
I've got something to say