Cafe Martinique

You walk through a series of chambers
Each one different air than the last
You lie in the bedrooms of strangers
But conjure up grievances past
This room has a chill and a dampness
This room has the warmth of the Sun
This room is a song, an enchantress
This room with the fog is the one

The atmosphere changes too quickly
The choices you have are too much
The calendar adheres so strictly
To the will that’s implied by her touch
You wake up in rooms unfamiliar
You wake up from songs all too soon
You wake but your body is still here
In time and in phase and in tune

Turn into fog
Turn into fog
Turn into fog

Turn into fog
Turn into fog
Turn into fog

Turn into fog
Turn into fog
Turn into fog

Turn into fog
Turn into fog
Turn into fog