(Stips)



Down in the airshaft

Of the old hotel

Doors on both sides

Of a concrete cell

No sign of daylight

No happy view

A two-pillow mattress

One hardly used

And a man lies still

His face up to the moon

The sound of footsteps

In the corridor

Two hands knocking

On a pair of doors

The black and shiny

Limousine

Comes to a standstill

Silently

And the man behind the wheel he croons a tune

It's a clear day springtime coming soon