Down in the airshaft
Of the old hotel
Doors on both sides
Of a concrete cell
No sign of daylight
No happy view
A two-ipllow mattress
One hardly used
And a man lies still
His face up to the moon
The sound of footsteps
In the corridor
Two hands knocking
On a pair of doors
The black and shiny
Limousine
Comes to a standstill
Silently
And the man behind the wheel he croons a tune
It's a clear day springtime coming soon
Writer(s): Robert Stips
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