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