|
I'm calling you from the foyer |
|
Of the sands hotel |
|
Where the men and the women |
|
Are acquainted quite well |
|
And the drunkards keep on drinking |
|
And oh, my room is cold |
|
I'm disputing the bill |
|
I will sleep in my clothes |
|
And you, my invalid friend |
|
You slam the receiver when you say |
|
'if i had your limbs for a day |
|
I would steam away' |
|
I'm calling you from the foyer |
|
Of this awful hotel |
|
Where the slime and the grime |
|
Gel |
|
And i cannot - or, i do not |
|
And oh, my room is cold |
|
And i'm envying you never having to choose |
|
And you, my invalid friend |
|
You slam the receiver when you say |
|
'if i had your limbs for a day |
|
I would steam away' |
|
I'm calling you from the foyer |
|
Of the sands hotel |
|
It's not low-life, it's just people |
|
Having a good time |
|
And oh, my invalid friend |
|
Oh, my invalid friend |
|
In our different ways we are |
|
The same |