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