I sit alone in a hotel room, I’m watching MTV,
I play the tunes hypnotically, think about what it’s like to be.
Have to go, have to go to the show.
My feelings wanna know where to grow.
The lights are on the hall is full, the band is playing a waiting tune,
the red line a square to cross, I sigh, my feet are tumbling as I cry:
‘Feeling fine? You’re all feeling fine?’
I take my guitar and Santana sound’s like mine.
I can’t see anything against the lights. The crowd seems moving like the tides.
My songs shake hands the crowd’s driving me mad
they squeeze my feelings out-a my head
I’m on, I’m completely on. I fear the moments when the lights are gone.
After the show the hall’s still warm. It looks like after the final storm.
The wall is higher than the Berlin wall ever has been.
I’m alone, completely alone. My feelings stolen, inside cold, nowhere at home.
… completely alone!
|(Musik & Text: Pierre 2001)