Nobody Home

Pink Floyd

                           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 these 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
I've got amazing powers of observation   
 And that is how I know
 When I try to get through  
On the telephone to you  
 They'll be nobody home 
I've got the obligatory Hendrix perm
And the inevitable pinhole burns 
 All down in 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
 I've got a strong urge to fly 
But I've got nowhere to fly to     
 Ooooh Babe when I pick up the phone 
 There's still nobody home  
 I've got a pair of Gohills boots
And I've got fading roots

Am C C+ C/G C6 C7 D D7 D7/F# E E7 E7+ E7/G# F Fm Fm6 G
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