We are lying on our bed smoking a cigar,
The smoke curls up in a blue haze.
We eat cold Mango and melon from room service.
Jim Morrison is playing through the speakers
We are in a state of confusion about the hours
If we go down to the beach until three
When we come back we will be at two
We decide not to worry about it and eat and drink
the fan overhead turns and turns and turns
Eyes feel tired and room service comes to take away dirty dishes
In a haze we comply and then the room is empty.
Bills paid, We lie back and take in the air and remember
when we used to know what we came here for.