Billy

Slack jawed 

Under a bridge 

He waits in the van 

Like the troll he is 

Low sun 

Alights her thigh 

Wind lifts her skirt 

As she walks by 

Chorus: Finders 

Keepers 

But I’ll take what I’m keeping 

Now the van 

Runs nearer the ground 

A mysterious load 

That’ll never be found 

The exhaust 

Spits out dust 

As the van 

Continues to rust 

He’s back at the bridge 

Waiting for game 

Jaw dropped 

Eyes glaze again 

Slack jawed 

Under a bridge 

He waits in his van 

Like the troll he is

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