Nobody Home Lyrics

I got a little black book with my poems in.

Got a bag, got a toothbrush and a comb.

When

I'm a good dog they sometimes throw me a bone.

I got elastic bands keeping my shoes on.

Got those swollen hands blues.

Got thirteen channels of shit on the

TV to choose from.

I got electric light,

And

I got second sight.

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 got the obligatory

Hendrix perm,

And the inevitable pinhole burns,

All down the front of my favorite satin shirt.

I got nicotine stains on my fingers.

I 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 got a strong urge to fly,

But

I got nowhere to fly to (-- fly to... fly to... fly to...).

Ooooo

Babe,

When

I pick up the phone,

There's still nobody home.

I got a pair of

Gohill boots,

And

I got fading roots.