I waste nobody's time but my ownnWell it's mine to waste so let it gonMy childhood inspectionnIs my record collectionnAnd sometimes i need to feel grownnYou've got your head up your assnTo keep yourself coverednYou trip up the past, trip over your mothernHow come?nHow come i think you're capable?nThat's bad enoughnI need a kick up the assnTo stop feeling smotherednLook up at the past, look down to discovernHow come?nMy childhood obsessionnIs my record collectionnSo what makes us so squeaky clean?nIf we're food for worms that's not my scene