Hotel hobbies paddin' dawns hollow corridors   Bell boys checkin' out the hookers in the bar   Slug like fingers trace the star spangled clouds of cocaine on the mirror   The short straw took it's bow      The tell tale tockin' of the last cigarette   Markin' time in the packet as the whiskey sweat   Lies like discarded armor on an unmade bed   And a familiar cravin' is crawlin' in his head      And the only sign of life is the tickin' of the pen   Introducin' characters to memories like old friends   Frantic as a cardiograph scratchin' out the lines   A fever of confession a catalog of crime in happy hour   Do you cry in happy hour?   Do you hide in happy hour?   The pilgrimage to happy hour      New shadows tuggin' at the corner of his eye   Jostling for attention   When the sunlight flares   Through a curtains tear   Shufflin' its beams as if in nervous anticipation of another day