Scrap

I met a skinhead named Scrap
He lived in my friend's garage
Everyday, he's shaking that spray paint can
And comes out seeing stars

Grab a paper bag like an oxygen mask
Until your mind starts to gel
'Cause the ball in the can has a crazy beat
The funky, dying brain cell

Well, he met some Christians from hell
Who said: Let's go to Vegas, man
So he packed up his leather and his red beret
Into that big, bad Christian van

Use revival meetings like an oxygen tent
Till your mind starts to gel
'Cause the preacher thumps the bible with a crazy beat
The funky, dying brain cell

Well, he came back to the garage
But the garage, it wasn't there
And he dug metallic gold more than Luke and John
Now he's growing his hair

Grab a paper bag like an oxygen mask
Until your mind starts to gel
'Cause the ball in the can has a crazy beat
The funky, dying brain cell