Hotel hobbies padding dawns hollow corridors Bell boys checking out the hookers in the bar Slug-like fingers trace the star-spangled clouds of cocaine on the mirror The short straw took its bow The tell tale tocking of the last cigarette Marking time in the packet as the whisky sweat Lies like discarded armour on an unmade bed And a familiar craving is crawling in his head And the only sign of life is the ticking of the pen Introducing characters to memories like old friends Frantic as a cardiograph scratching out the lines A fever of confession a catalogue of crime in happy hour Do you cry in happy hour, do you hide in happy hour The pilgrimage to happy hour New shadows tugging at the corner of his eye Jostling for attention as the sunlight flares Through a curtains tear, shuffling its beams As if in nervous anticipation of another day On promenades where drunks propose to lonely arcade mannequins Where ceremonies pause at the jeweler's shop display Feigning casual silence in strained romantic interludes Till they commit themselves to the muted journey home And the pool player rests on another cue Last nights hero picking up his dues A honeymoon gambled on a ricochet She's staring at the brochures at the holidays Chalking up a name in your hometown Standing all your mates to another round Laughing at the world till the barman wipes away the warm wet circles The warm wet circles I saw teenage girls like gaudy moths A classroom's shabby butterflies Flirt in the glow of stranded telephone boxes Planning white lace weddings from smeared hearts and token proclamations Rolled from stolen lipsticks across the razored webs of glass Sharing cigarettes with experience with her giggling jealous confidantes She faithfully traces his name with quick bitten fingernails Through the tears of condensation that'll cry through the night As the glancing headlights of the last bus kiss adolescence goodbye In a warm wet circle Like a mothers kiss on your first broken heart, a warm wet circle Like a bullet hole in Central Park, a warm wet circle And I'll always surrender to the warm wet circles She nervously undressed in the dancing beams of the Fidra lighthouse Giving it all away before it's too late She'll let a lovers tongue move in a warm wet circle Giving it all away and showing no shame She'll take a mother's kiss on her first broken heart a warm wet circle She'll realise that she played her part in a warm wet circle It was a wedding ring Destined to be found in a cheap hotel Lost in a kitchen sink or thrown in a wishing well At that time of the night When streetlights throw crosses through window frames Paranoia roams where the shadows reign Oh, at that time of the night At that time of the night Your senses tangled in some new perfume Criticism triggers of a loaded room Oh, at that time of the night So if you ask me How do I feel inside I could honestly tell you We've been taken on a very long ride And if my owners let me have some free time some day With all good intention I would probably run away Clutching the short straw At that time of the night When questions rally in an open mind Summon all your answers with an ice cubes chime At that time of the night At that time of the night Pretend you're off the hook with the telephone Your confidence wounded in a free fire zone Oh, at that time of the night So if you ask me Where do I go from here My next destination even isn't really that clear So if you join me and get on your knees and prey I'll show you salvation We'll take the alternative way Clutching the short straw If I
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