Nobody Home

I've got a little black book with my poems in.

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.

Got thirteen channels of shit on the T.V. to choose from.

I've got electric light.

And I've got second sight.

And 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.