This one's about some homeless man the band would pass on their walk home from grabbing coffee in the mornings. Some days, he would be loaded and not remember them (as he scratched out private parts of pictures from magazines,) and other days carry on a normal conversation about life in general. What a trip.
Shuffle can to can nobody really gives a damn
For every living day I give myself a hand
Now I'm scroungy as can be
I got all you normals looking at me