Comet Face

Woke up Peckham Rye At half 5 Boy on the ground with his pants down What happened to him in his past life What happened to him in this park side Roads were busy buses pass by I wonder who saw me ask the last guy Think it was Willem He said I was heading ends from the Poolside Hustled the cokeys til 5 am But all I got was swept aside Like the pesticide in your vegetables From Summertime Like the worries of those having worse times Like the worries of those having worse times Like the worries of those having worse times Like the worries of those having worse times Not again it’s Peckham Rye At half 5 Boy on the ground with his pants down What happened to him in his past life Spilled blood from his dome in his past time Has it happened again is the skull sliced Is the gold fine At least my nose I ain’t bent And my brains fine Think they asked for a light Then they offered a line Formed from some mice to men But I’m glad to decline Must have triggered something Enhanced masculine that pride glistening self esteam insulin That contorts the glows of the worst time That contorts the glows of the worst time That contorts the glows of the worst time That contorts the glows of the worst time A waste of time A waste of time A waste of time A waste of time A waste of time A waste of time