possessions never meant anything to me
i'm not crazy
well, that's not true i've got a bed,
and a guitar and a dog named bob who pisses on my floor
that's right, i've got a floor
so what?
i've got pockets pull of kleenex and lint and holes
where everything important to me
just seems to fall right down my leg
and onto the floor
my cloest friend linoleum
linoleum supports my head
gives me something to believe
that's me on the beach side combing the sand
metal meter in my hand
sporting a pocket full of change
that's me on the street with a violin under my chin
playing with a grin
singing gibberish
that's me on the back of the bus
that's me in the cell
that's me inside you head
that's me inside your head