You’re waiting for your personal big bang
Waiting for your personal big bang
Contemplating what you want
Hating what you’ve got
Waiting for your personal big bang
Is this a good day? How can you tell
The girl in the stupid dress is wearing it well
She’s making her exit, she’s leaving a scent
Of rainfall and corn flakes, of nights being spent
You keep reading the paper, keep scanning the crowd
All the while wondering what you’re about
And what is important, and whether you’re real
And where you are headed, and who’s at the wheel
You’re waiting for your personal big bang
Waiting for your personal big bang
Contemplating what you want
Hating what you’ve got
Waiting for your personal big bang
You feel like pretending even when you’re not
What makes people peaceful? What have they got?
Maybe a novel, maybe a song
But even the first lines come out all wrong
Maybe be famous, maybe just hang
Trying to make contact, but the phone never rang
The movie was boring, the weather’s a drag
But the sun would change nothin', the heavens still sag
You’re waiting for your personal big bang
Waiting for your personal big bang
Contemplating what you want
Hating what you’ve got
Waiting for your personal big bang
Waiting, dreaming, doing absolutely nothing