THE WALL |
I've got a little black book with my poems in I've
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 keeping my shoes on Got
those swollen hands blues Got
thirteen channels of shit on the T.V. to choose from I've
got electric light And
I've got second sight I've
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 favourite 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've got nowhere to fly to Ooooh
babe when I pick up the phone I've
got a pair of Gohills boots And
I've got fading roots
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