Nobody Home
[TV can be heard in background][Child's scream] "Shut up!"
"Oi! I got a little black book with me poems in!" I got a little black book with my poems in
Got a bag with a toothbrush and comb in
When I'm a good dog, they sometimes throw me a bone in I got elastic bands keeping my shoes on
Got those swollen hand blues
I got thirteen channels of shit on the TV to choose from
I've 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 favourite 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 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, fly to...)
Ooooh, babe, when I pick up the phone [TV in background] "Surprise, surprise, surprise..." There's still nobody home I got a pair of Gohills boots
And I got fading roots