I stare at the walls in this empty hotel room
I don’t feel like listening
The telephone tries to talk with me
I called room service asking them to clean my memory
I open the veil to the city’s eyes
I sit here exposed--suffering wisdom’s arms
Can you honestly say that you don’t lie on Sundays
When your back is on the bed next to me?
I noticed that time hangs on the wall
It’s next to my bed waking me into everyday
The clothes in the closet are too nice
To belong to someone who plays with business
You stand at the door
If there is no lock, how come I am looking for a key?
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