I waste nobody's time but my own

Well, it's mine to waste so let it go

My childhood inspection is my record collection

And sometimes I need to feel grown



You've got your head up your ass

To keep yourself covered, you trip up the past

Trip over your mother, how come?

How come I think you're capable?

That's bad enough



I need a kick up the ass

To stop feeling smothered

Look up at the past

Look down to discover

How come?



My childhood obsession

Is my record collection

So what makes us so squeaky clean?

If we're food for worms that's not my scene