In your room, stuck in a heat
As if the power of the sun
Was all being spent in one noon
You woke with your head the wrong end of the bed
You stair at the phone as it rings
But right now two yards is two yards too far for you
And you feel the summer burning little holes in every sense
That you've got and you've seen the ceiling turning
On a dark ride that won't let you off
In your room, high above the streets
Your patience is stretched snap taut as a drum
Soon don't mean soon, it just slips off her tongue
And the waiting makes statues that crack when she comes
And you shake . . . you need her to come
And you feel something burning, it's your dignity
It's seen how far you can fall and you feel
The hours turning into centuries full of nothing at all
In your room, alone on the sheets
Skin so pale it glows opaque in the night
Dawn will soon come, the darkness be gone
Along with the crutches it takes to feel strong
Still your fear will be dragged into the light
And deep down inside you are burning
With the hatred of what you've become
And you fear that you're turning into something instead of someone
Room 83, it's the one you never leave
It's a little piece of hell, your Spanish hotel