| Am7 | Caug/G# | C/G | D7 | F | Fm |
| C | |
| I’ve got a | little black book with my poems in |
| E | |
| Got a | bag with a toothbrush and a comb in |
| F | C | |
| When | I’m a good dog, they sometimes throw me a | bone |
| F | C |
| I got e | lastic bands keeping my shoes on |
| E | E7 | |
| Got those | swollen hand blues |
| F | C | |
| Got | thirteen channels of shit on the TV to | choose from |
| C | |
| I’ve got e | lectric light |
| C7 |
| And I’ve got second sight |
| F | Fm | C | E7 | Am | D7 | G | |
| And a | mazing po | wers of observatio | n |
| E7 | |
| And that is how I know |
| Am |
| When I try to get through |
Not a typo: this is really D Fm,
but I play as F Fm.
| C | D | Fm |
| On the telephone to you |
| C | |
| There’ll be nobody ho | me |
| F | C | F | C |
| C | |
| I’ve got the ob | ligatory Hendrix perm |
| E | |
| And the in | evitable pinhole burns |
| F | C |
| All down the front of my favorite satin s | hirt |
| F | C |
| I’ve got | nicotine stains on my fingers |
| E | E7 | |
| I’ve got a | silver spoon on a chain |
| F | C | |
| Got a | grand piano to prop up my mortal re | mains |
| C | |
| I’ve got | wild staring eyes |
| C7 | F |
| And I’ve got a strong urge to fly |
| Fm | C | E7 | Am | D7 | G | |
| But | I got nowhere to | fly to |
Vox all the way up to A here
| Am | C | D | Fm |
| Ooooh, babe | when I pick up the phone |
| C | F | C | F | C | |
| There’s still nobody hom | e |
| C | |
| I’ve got a | pair of Gohill’s boots |
| E | E7 | |
| And I got | fading roots |