(Dick/Kelly/Mosley/Rothery/Trewavas)
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Hotel hobbies padding dawns hollow corridors
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Bell boys checking out the hookers in the bar
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Slug-like fingers trace the star-spangled clouds of cocaine on the mirror
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The short straw took its bow
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The tell tale tocking of the last cigarette
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Marking time in the packet as the whisky sweat
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Lies like discarded armour on an unmade bed
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And a familiar craving is crawling in his head
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And the only sign of life is the ticking of the pen
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Introducing characters to memories like old friends
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Frantic as a cardiograph scratching out the lines
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A fever of confession a catalogue of crime in happy hour
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Do you cry in happy hour, do you hide in happy hour
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The pilgrimage to happy hour
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New shadows tugging at the corner of his eye
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Jostling for attention as the sunlight flares
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Through a curtains tear, shuffling its beams
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As if in nervous anticipation of another day
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Hotel Hobbies
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Marillion |