Chelsea Hotel No. 1

Friendly prison farmer parties watching waterfalls
Another doomed dreamer from 18 to 205
Drained spirit and an unspoken curtain call
Controversial cameras keep the factory alive

Outer space unlocked behind a closed door
Piranha-eaten fingers writing foolish new songs
The long dinner table that two creatives tore
Starlet light dimmed by the way that all belong

I believe that these walls can talk
Long, dark corridors and rooms with no locks
Now you can hear ghostly footsteps as they walk
And as they rip the hands off of the clocks

Obscene journal suites built of needles and soon blood
Memories in music made clear enough to hurt
A month of passed-out passionate fights just for fun
And a lost weekend that ends feet beneath the dirt

Legendary knife and saddened stand-still sink
Photo albums aren’t ready yet for all to see
Charred wood of wardrobes from glued candle drinks
Spellbound by the minds that cast spells from tea trees

I believe that these walls can talk
Long, dark corridors and rooms with no locks
Now you can hear ghostly footsteps as they walk
And as they rip the hands off of the clocks

Rays of new sun casting sorrow on old feet
People with age old ship stories and fearful eyes
Smoke-filled elevators are keeping minds complete
Blunt black-and-white photos that outsiders despise

Blue birds and one stone and evil, dangerous art
Everyday once again sounds the death knell
Everybody knows you’re living worlds apart
When you’re spending all your days in the Chelsea Hotel

I believe that these walls can talk
Long, dark corridors and rooms with no locks
Now you can hear ghostly footsteps as they walk
And as they rip the hands off of the clocks

I believe that these walls can talk
Long, dark corridors and rooms with no locks
Now you can hear ghostly footsteps as they walk
And as they rip the hands off of the clocks

In the Chelsea Hotel
In the Chelsea Hotel
In the Chelsea Hotel