Like a clown, walking down past the hotel room
his red-nosed cigarette alight.
The lobbyist winks, he recognises me.

Tap tap I'm leaving. Tap tap.

The train with swollen hearts departs this thawing furnace.
In the corner is the clown;
Comfied round his wearied eyes and weary pride.
Playing with her number like a child with a toy, wondering,

will the embers suffice?
To decoy and employ our tangled kisses and nibbles and bites through the nights.
Or get soaked up in depravity and a bottle of gin?
Excluded in the watered down reality of the phone.

The clown remains without a clue,
Are you thinking about me? I'm thinking about you