Well I brought home records from the record store,
All the rave reviews and the golden star,
And I listened and I listened carefully
To the words and the styles and the melody,
And they all had nothing to say to me,
Nothing to say.

Well I got a good player with the quadro sound,
And I spun those records round and round,
And the voices were full of agony,
Hysterics, polytechnics, electricity,
And they all had nothing to say to me,
Nothing to say.

So then I turned on the radio,
And then I went to the Broadway show,
And then I watched the color TV
And the media mediocrity,
And they all had nothing to say to me,
Nothing to say.

Tell me something, little katydid,
Tell me something, little skooter kid,
Tell me something, cock-a-doodle-doo,
Cause I can't find anything to listen to,
They've got nothing to say to me or you,
Nothing to say.