There′s a picture of Jesus lying in his mother's arms
Shuttered windows, cars humming on the street below
The fountain throbbed in the lobby of the Grand HotelWe checked into room thirty-three, well, well, well, well
You were a runaway flake of snow
You were skinny and white as a wafer, yeah, I know
Sitting on the edge of the bed clicking your shoes
I slid my little songs out from under you
And we all rose from our wonder
We would never admit defeat
And we leaned out of the window
As the rain fell on the street, on the street
They were just a sigh released from a dying star
They were runaway flakes of snow, yeah, I know
They annexed your insides in a late night raid
We sent down for drinks and something to eat
The cars humming in the rain on the street below
A fountain throbs in the lobby of the Grand Hotel
The spurting font of creativity, yeah, I know
Your head in a pool of your own streaming hair
And Jesus lying in his mother′s arms
Just so, all up on the wall, just so
And we all rose up from our wonder
We would never admit defeat
And we leaned out of the window
And watched the horses in the street, in the street
In room thirty-three, yeah
Yeah, I know
