i got a little black book with my poems in it a bag 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 i got those swollen hand blues i got thirteen channels of shit on the tv to choose from i got electric light i 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 still be nobody home i ve 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 i got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains i got wild staring eyes i got a strong urge to fly but i got nowhere to fly to ooh babe when i pick up the phone there ll still nobody home i got a pair of gohills boots and i got fading roots