I ve got a little black book with my poems in Got a bag with toothbrush and a comb in When I m a good dog they sometimes throw me a bone in I got elastic bands keeping my shoes on Got those swollen hand blues I ve got 13 channels of shit on the T.V.
to choose from I ve got electric light And I ve got second sight I ve got amazing powers of observation And that is how I know When I try to get through On the telephone to you There ll be nobody home I ve got the obligatory Hendrix Perm And the inevitable pinhole burns All down the front of my favourite satin shirt I ve got nicotine stains on my fingers I ve got a silver spoon on a chain Got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains I ve got wild staring eyes And I ve got a strong urge to fly But I ve got nowhere to fly to Ooh Babe when I pick up the phone There s still nobody home I ve got a pair of Gohills boots And I ve got fading roots

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