Nobody Home

Note: 

This lyrics cannot be more appropriate right now.

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

Got a bag with toothbrush and comb in

When I'm 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

And I've got second sight

I 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 my favorit satin shirt

I've got nicotine stains on my fingers

I've got a silver spoon on a chain

Got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains

I got wild staring eyes

And I've got a strong urge to fly

But I got nowhere to fly to

Ooh, babe when you pick up the phone

There's still nobody home

I've got a pair of Gohills boots 

But I got fading roots

So true right now...so true!

"I'm friends with the monster that's under my bed
Get along with voices inside of my head
You're trying to save me, stop holding your breath
And you think I'm crazy, yeah, you think I'm crazy

Well, that's nothing
Well, that's nothing..."

Mit einer Spieluhr in der hand

Ein kleiner Mensch strib nur zum Schein
wollt ganz alleine sein
Das kleine Herz stand sill für Stunden
So hat man er für tod befunden
Es wird verscharrt in nassem Sand
...

CHOP SUEY!

I don't think you trust
In, my, self-righteous suicide
I, cry, when angels deserve to die

Father! Father! Father! Father!
"Father into your hands, I commend my spirits"*
Father into your hands
Why have you forsaken me
In your eyes forsaken me
In your thoughts forsaken me
In your heart forsaken me


* Luke 23:46

'This' cannot be more fitting for this moment!

Song: Time

Artist: Pink Floyd

Written by: Roger Waters, David Gilmour, Nick Mason, Richard Wright

Ticking away the moments

That make up a dull day

Fritter and waste the hours

In an off-hand way

Kicking around on a piece of ground

In your home town

Waiting for someone or something

To show you the way

Tired of lying in the sunshine

Staying home to watch the rain

You are young and life is long

And there time is still kill today

And then the one day you find 

Ten years have got behind you

No one told you when to run

You missed the starting gun

And you run and you run

to catch up with the sun

But it's sinking

Racing around

To come up behind you again

The sun is the same

In a relative way

But you're older

Shorter of breath

And one day closer to death

Every year is getting shorter

Never seem to find time

Plans that either come to naught

Or half a page of scribbled lines

Hanging on in quiet desperation

Is the English way

The time is gone

The song is over

Thought I'd something more to say

Home

Home again

I like to be here

When I can

When I come home

Cold and tired

It's good to warm my bones

Beside the fire

Far away

Across the field 

Tolling on the iron bell

Calls the faithful to their knees

To hear the softly spoken magic spell