possessions never meant anything to me i'm not crazy ('cause i've got none) we'll that's not true, i've got a bed and a guitar and a dog named dog who pisses on my floor that's right, i've got a floor so what, so what, so what? I've got pockets full of kleenex and lint and holes where everything important to me just seems to fall right down my leg and on to the floor my closest friend, linoleum linoleum supports my head, gives me something to believe that's me on the beachside combing the sand metal meter in my hand sporting a pocket full 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 your head that's me inside your head