Pink Floyd – Nobody Home
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