Pink Floyd - Nobody Home Lyrics

I've got a little black book with my poems in
I got a bag with a toothbrush and a comb in
When I'm a good dog, they sometimes throw me a bone in

I got elastic bands keepin' 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, I've 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've got the obligatory Hendrix perm
And the inevitable pinhole burns
All down the front of my favorite satin shirt

I've got nicotine stains on my fingers
I've got a silver spoon on a chain
I've got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains

I've got wild staring eyes
And I've got a strong urge to fly
But I got nowhere to fly to
Ooh babe, when I pick up the phone
There's still nobody home

I've got a pair of Gohill's boots
I got fading roots