Say what you will about me -- I was really just getting up to leave
the comforting sway and normalcy of this life I knew to the east.
Oh, hello, there flickering screen. You're the only one up here I need.
It's awful quiet and my schedule's all but empty.
It's the hum that keeps me from feeling all alone in this red scene.

Tell 'em. Go on and tell 'em who's right.

Now all hands on the spaceship, and you were gearing up to leave.
Out here in your basement you were too stoic to believe,
and we wasted the obvious engagement.
We're wasted for the opportunity.

I know it's never coming back to me.
I'm not in orbit, there's no hope of reentry.
I've made my bed just knowing they'll rewrite me.
Let's hope the edit's a bit more flattering.

My ghost will tell 'em who's right.
Wasted for the opportunity.
Waiting for the opportunity.