Melody motel
He drove up to the motel
In his town and country car
He watched the working women
With the field hands from the farm
He walked into the lobby
With his pleased to see you smile
Scribbled on to the register
His fictitious name and smiled
The footsteps of a young girl
Came tapping along the hall
The outline of his features
Were shadowed on the wall
She stood a little nervous
Half lit by the neon light
That flashed in many colours
Through the darkness of the night
The skin on his face
Like a well worn saddle
Smiled as he said goodnight
At the melody motel
It was business as usual
As the girls wiped the tears from their eyes
His shirt lay by his bedside
His jeans down by his feet
She swallowed hard and mumbled
With the key between her teeth
On went the television
The picture flickering slow
Top cat in the alley way
As they sat there all alone
He drove back up his driveway
In his town and country car
His wife was cooking chicken
With a baby in her arms
The smell of home cooked dinner
Filled the air at home that night
Screaming officer dibble
In the tv's flickering light
Slumped in his favourite armchair
His face as grey as stone
His feet up on the table
Next to the chicken bones
He seemed to show no feelings
Picking corn out from his teeth
Police down at the motel
As the blood dried on the sheets
Melodia do motel
Ele chegou no motel
Com seu carro da cidade e do campo
Observou as mulheres que trabalham
Com os trabalhadores do campo
Entrou no saguão
Com seu sorriso de prazer em te ver
Rabiscou no registro
Seu nome fictício e sorriu
Os passos de uma jovem
Ecoavam pelo corredor
O contorno de suas feições
Era projetado na parede
Ela estava um pouco nervosa
Meia iluminada pela luz de néon
Que piscava em várias cores
Através da escuridão da noite
A pele do seu rosto
Como uma sela bem usada
Sorriu ao dizer boa noite
No motel da melodia
Era tudo como sempre
Enquanto as garotas limpavam as lágrimas dos olhos
A camisa dele estava ao lado da cama
As calças jogadas aos pés
Ela engoliu em seco e murmurou
Com a chave entre os dentes
A televisão ligou
A imagem piscando devagar
O gato do topo na rua
Enquanto eles estavam ali sozinhos
Ele voltou pela sua entrada
Com seu carro da cidade e do campo
Sua esposa estava cozinhando frango
Com um bebê nos braços
O cheiro do jantar caseiro
Enchia o ar em casa naquela noite
O oficial Dibble gritando
Na luz piscante da TV
Desabado na sua poltrona favorita
Seu rosto cinza como pedra
Os pés em cima da mesa
Ao lado dos ossos de frango
Ele parecia não sentir nada
Tirando milho dos dentes
Polícia no motel
Enquanto o sangue secava nos lençóis