| Mrs. Smith and Mr. Jones have come to pass the night
|
| They pulled off of the highway when they saw my light
|
| It’s a vacancy I offer them, what they offer me
|
| Is fullness for a lifetime that’s bare as can be
|
| There’s a vacancy, won’t you come to me
|
| And fill my empty spaces
|
| I’m a motel man in a promised land
|
| That’s filled with empty faces
|
| So won’t you bring your sorrows bring your dreams
|
| It’s a place for you to be
|
| There’s no more tomorrow or that’s how it seems
|
| Won’t you come to me? |
| I’ve got a vacancy
|
| Another name, another key, another pass to glory
|
| Another night, another sight, another bedtime story
|
| Another stage, another chance, for gentleness or violence
|
| Another birth, another dance, another death in silence
|
| There’s a vacancy, won’t you come to me
|
| And fill my empty spaces
|
| I’m a motel man in a promised land
|
| That’s filled with empty faces
|
| So won’t you bring your sorrows bring your dreams
|
| It’s a place for you to be
|
| There’s no more tomorrow or that’s how it seems
|
| Won’t you come to me? |
| I’ve got a vacancy
|
| Mr. John is coming on with his liason
|
| Mr. Soft is comin' off and soon he’ll be gone
|
| Mrs. Hart has come apart now that she’s alone
|
| Mr. Jive has come alive but nobody’s home
|
| Mornings come checkout time, with my pail and broom
|
| I find what they’ve left behind in every tell-tale room
|
| The sheets show their struggles, the glasses their fears
|
| The ashtrays the hours passed, the towels their tears
|
| There’s a vacancy, won’t you come to me
|
| And fill my empty spaces
|
| I’m a motel man in a promised land
|
| That’s filled with empty faces
|
| So won’t you bring your sorrows bring your dreams
|
| It’s a place for you to be
|
| There’s no more tomorrow or that’s how it seems
|
| Won’t you come to me? |
| I’ve got a vacancy |