‘s a bedraggled building
made of sandstone
where everyone lives
in a room of their own

its occupants have ceased
to hope for anything good
they’ve resigned themselves to dwelling
in this unsound neighborhood

there are car lots an’ pawn shops
gun shops an’ seedy bars
haunts of a sad-faced populace
who failed to grasp the stars

the hotel lobby reeks
of words left unspoken
an’ the porter’s like the elevator
eternally broken

the carpet’s seen better days
the stairwell walls are peeling
a once grand décor
that leaves you cold an’ unfeeling

here no one ever speaks
when they’re passing on the stairs
swamped by separate sorrows
they’ve no thought for other’s cares

the man who lost his fortune
shuns the woman bemoaning her youth
an’ the dragon-chasin’ couple
have invented their own truth

yet visitors are frequent
at the humble hotel dreams
here they find acceptance
in the sound of each other’s screams

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