text: I dont 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?
  Woo
  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 aint bent and my face sliced
  And he asked for a light, when he offered a line
  Fought from worst of men, but Im glad to decline
  Mustve 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 
  Of 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 
  A waste 
  Of time 
  A waste 
  Of time 
  A waste
  Jacob, Jacob, take a break, take a break, chill