Hotel Hobbies 歌词

Hotel hobbies padding dawns hollow corridors Bell boys checking out the hookers in the bar Slug-like fingers trace the star-spangled clouds of ******* on the mirror The short straw takes its bow The tell tale sign of the last cigarette marking time in the pockets as the whisky sweat lies like discarded armour on an unmade bed As familiar cravings are crawling through his head And the only sign of life is the ticking of the pen Introducing characters to memories like old friends Frantic as a cardiograph scratching out the lines In a fever of confession a catalogue of crime in happy hour Do you cry in happy hour, do you hide in happy hour, a pilgrimage to happy hour New shadows tugging at the corner of his eye Jostling for attention as the sunlight flares Through a curtains tear, shuffling its beams As if in nervous anticipaion of another day