Comet Face (Live)

I don't really have too much to say Not again, Peckham Rye, half five Boy on the ground with his pants down, What happened to him in his past life? What happened to him in his park side? Roads were busy, buses passed by I wonder who saw me, I was the last guy Think it was Willem Said I was headed in through the poolside Hustled the cold keys 'til 5AM, but all I got was swept aside Like the pesticide in your vegetables in summertime Like the worries of those at thе worst times Like the worriеs of those at the worst times Like the worries of those at the worst times Is my brain fried? Not again, Peckham Rye, half five Boy on the ground with his pants down What happened to him in his past life? Spilled blood from his dome in his pastime Has it happened again? Is my brain fried? Is the gold fine? At least my nose ain't bent and my face sliced And he asked for a light, when he offered a line Fought from worst of men, but I'm glad to decline Must've triggered somethin', enhanced masculine After I push it in, self-esteem insulin Contorts the glows at the worst times It contorts the glows at the worst times At the worst times A waste (A waste) Of time (Of time) A waste (A waste) Of time (Of time) A waste (A waste) Of time (Of time) A waste (A waste) Of time (Of time) A waste (A waste) Of time (Of time) A waste (A waste) Of time (Of time) A waste (A waste) Of time (Of time) A waste (A waste) Of time (Of time) A waste (A waste) Of time (Of time) A waste