| The Iowa weather was 13 below
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| I had come to Des Moines for a radio show
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| I awoke in the evening from a traveler’s sleep
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| With notions of something to eat
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| The old elevator slid down past the floors
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| My head and my eyes said «You should have slept more.»
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| The man at the desk said the restaurant was closed
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| Outside it was 14 below
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| The lounge was still open and so I walked in
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| In place of my food I had two double gins
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| I looked 'round the room, as a tourist would do
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| That’s when I saw the girl in the booth
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| She sat there and cried in the smoky half-dark
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| The silent type crying that tears out your heart
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| Her clothes were not cut in the new modern way
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| And her suitcase had seen better days
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| Nobody asked her what caused her such pain
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| Nobody spoke up, yet no one complained
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| Without even asking, I knew why she cried
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| Life is just like that sometimes
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| The man at the desk said, «It's 15 below.»
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| The bellhop said «Yeah man, that’s cold… that's cold.»
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| I went back to my room and I wrote down this song
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| Oh it sure can get cold in Des Moines |