hotel and the sit out

What's you? "I am this"-you stood naked. (I still hear the siren of the ships... it was port de fantasy, it was hotel halucination, and the manager was Mr.Dream) II. The empty chair The empty balcony The empty sea The empty table The empty clouds The empty rain... a crack in the mirror pours the sunshine. III. My wasted guitar The oldest strumming Albums that you had in your rug-black and white "why me? there's no me"- selfishness sings its own anthem IV. Days are spongy rails, dawns are the wheels... we will go ahead; for we deserve eachother.