| THE BED TOOK FIRE
|
| (Morrissey/Street)
|
| early version of 'At Amber'
|
| I’m calling you from the foyer
|
| of the Sands Hotel
|
| Where the men and the women
|
| are acquainted quite well
|
| and the drunkards keep on drinking
|
| and oh my room is cold
|
| I’m disputing the bill
|
| I will sleep in my clothes
|
| And you, my invalid friend
|
| you slam the receiver when you say
|
| «If I had your limbs for a day
|
| I would steam away»
|
| I’m calling you from the foyer
|
| of this awful hotel
|
| Where the slime and the grime gel
|
| and I cannot — or, I do not
|
| and oh my room is cold
|
| and I’m envying you
|
| never having to choose
|
| And you, my invalid friend
|
| you slam the receiver when you say
|
| «If I had your limbs for a day
|
| I would steam away»
|
| I’m calling you from the foyer
|
| of the Sands Hotel
|
| it’s not low-life, it’s just people
|
| having a good time
|
| and oh, my invalid friend
|
| oh, my invalid friend
|
| in our different ways
|
| we are the same. |