I`ve got a little black book with my poems in
Got a bag with a toothbrush and a comb in
When I`m a good dog
They sometimes throw me the bone in

I got elastic bands keepin` my shoes on
Got those swollen hand blues
I got thirteen channels of s**t on the TV to choose from
I`ve got electric light

And I`ve got second sight
I 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
Now all down the front of my favorite 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 got nowhere to fly to
Ooh, babe when I pick up the phone there is still nobody home
I`ve got a pair of Gohills boots and I got fading roots