Lyrics:

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 you think I'm capable?
That's bad enough

I need a kick up the ass
To stop feeling smothered
Look up 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