Ten thousand words swarm 'round my head, ten million more in books writ-ten beneath my bed.

I wrote or read them all when searchin' in the swarms,
still can't find out how to hold my hands.



And I know you need me in the next room over,
but I am stuck in here all paralyzed.
For months I got myself in ruts. 
Too much time spent in mirrors framed in yellow walls.

Ain't it like most people? I'm no different,

we love to talk on things we don't know about.

And everyone around me shakes their head in disbelief

and says I'm too caught up.

They say "Young is good, and old is fine,

and truth is cool, but all that matters

is you have your good times."

But their good times come with prices,

and I can't believe it when I hear the jokes they make

at anyone's expense except their own.

Would they laugh if they knew who paid?

Ain't it like most people? I'm no different,

we love to talk on things we don't know about.

And after we are through ten years

of making it to be the most of glorious debuts,

I'll come back home without my things

'cause the clothes I wore out there I will not wear 'round you.

And they'll be quick to point out our shortcomings,

and how the experts all have had their doubts.

Ain't it like most people? I'm no different,

we love to talk on things we don't know about.