Friday, August 15, 2008
I got a little black book with my poems in.
Got a bag, got a toothbrush and a comb.
When Im 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, Therell 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.
Ive 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, Theres still nobody home.
I got a pair of gohill boots,
And I got fading roots.
__________________________________
Pink Floyd.
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