I've got a little black book with my poems in
I've got a bag with toothbrush and a comb in
when I'm good dog they sometime throw me a bone in
I've got elastic band keeping my shoes on
got those swollen hand blues
got fourteen channels of shit on the TV to choose from
I've got eletric light
and I've got a second sight
I've got amzing power 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 pinholes burns
all down the front of my favourite satin shirt
I've got a nicotine stains on my fingers
I've got a silver spoon on a chain
I've got a grand piano to propup my mortal remains
I've got a wild staring eyes
I've got a strong urge to fly
but I've got nowhere to fly to
Oooh babe, when I pick up the phone
there's still nobody home
I've got a pair of Gohill boots
and I've got fading roots.
I've got little black book with my poems in........
Careful, careful........careful with that axe, Eugene
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