Intro: + +
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I've got a little black book with my poems in
I've got a bag with a toothbrush and a comb in
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When I'm a good dog they sometimes throw me a bone in
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I got elastic bands keeping my shoes on
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Got these swollen hand blues.
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Got thirteen channels of shit on the T.V. to choose from
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I've got electric light
And I've got second sight
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I've got amazing powers of observation
And that is how I know
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When I try to get through
On the telephone to you
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They'll be nobody home
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I've got the obligatory Hendrix perm
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And the inevitable pinhole burns
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All down in the front of my favourite satin shirt
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I've got nicotine stains on my fingers
I've got a silver spoon on a chain
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I've got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains
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I've got wild staring eyes
I've got a strong urge to fly
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But I've got nowhere to fly to
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Ooooh Babe when I pick up the phone
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There's still nobody home
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I've got a pair of Gohills boots
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And I've got fading roots