Scrap کے بول

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