Scavenger Type

[Verse 1]

Sitting alone at the bottom of the hill

Our protagonist named Bill

Sets his sights on an anchor steam pint

All he needs is thirteen quarters

Congregated in his hat

[Verse 2]

A crow, a scavenger type

California redemption provides him with his rent

Room and board inside of a fifth of comfort

[Verse 3]

The coins don't drop consistent as does the mercury

His meter slows, realizing a zenith

He's reached perfection

No one did see him die

No one did see him die

No one did see him die