| She was the, the patron saint of twenty third street
|
| She was around for a lot of time, she
|
| Wandering around the hotel hallways in the middle of the night
|
| Carrying a little yellow cardboard box
|
| And she inhabited the place like a butterfly
|
| There was this kind of sadness about her and they
|
| And she did have this light
|
| And nobody ever knew her real name
|
| Those times, I see her coming on a Stepping through broken bottles and gum
|
| Carrying her shoes, barefoot
|
| People said she was crazy
|
| About, about six months before the fire, there was a There was a big blackout, famous summer blackout
|
| She walked around through the halls giving everyone candles
|
| Scared everybody away in the end
|
| And when the fire happened, you know
|
| Everybody assumed it was her
|
| Terrible fires all that year and little ones
|
| I don’t know if it was fair or not
|
| But everybody blamed her for it And then one day she, she just vanished
|
| And later they said her name was Alice
|
| The whole time I never knew her name |