Ive got a little black book with my poems in. Got a bag with a toothbrush and a comb in. When Im a good dog they sometimes throw me a bone in. I got elastic bands keeping my shoes on. Got those swollen hand blues. Ive got thirteen channels of shit on the T.V. to choose from. Ive got electric light. And Ive got second sight. Ive got amazing powers of observation. And that is how I know When I try to get through On the telephone to you There will be nobody home. Ive got the obligatory Hendrix perm. And the inevitable pinhole burns All down the front of my favorite satin shirt. Ive got nicotine stains on my fingers. Ive got a silver spoon on a chain. Ive got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains. Ive got wild staring eyes. And Ive got a strong urge to fly. But Ive got nowhere to fly to. Ooooh, Babe. When I pick up the phone Theres still nobody home. Ive got a pair of Gohills boots And Ive got fading roots
Posted on: Sat, 29 Nov 2014 22:27:14 +0000
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