Scavenger Type - Frank Turner

Gigin 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

A crow, a scavenger type

California redemption, provides him with his rent

Room and board inside of, a fifth, of comfort

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