I still remember you young,
filling tap water into your glass,
watering the orchids in the living room.

That day your gran taught you,
about over-watering your plants,
and under-watering too;

While Elvis's LP played on the record player,
his voice singing about the bellhop's tears,
and the desk clerk dressed in black.

Last night I saw you in a shop window,
looking as if you spilt too much colour
and you had over-watered your plants anew.

In the corner of lonely street,
the building stood and blinked,
down in Heartbreak Hotel we meet.