Back at the same hotel one year ago
I brought her back to this room
There’s not much to say
She came back every day
Twice that one afternoon
It wasn’t just bodies, but oh how our bodies
Tangled so effortlessly
There was much laughter
Before and after
And sometimes in between
I wanna call her up, say: How are you? (How are you?)
How’s things? Are you doing alright? (Doing alright)
But then a quiet voice, it tells me: It’s okay
You can sleep alone tonight
I got my toothbrush set out by the sink
I might just give it a go
Then climb into bed
Read a page of that novel
Or zone out on some TV show
Don’t think of her shoulders, her hips, or her smile
That she’s just a cab ride away
She could be married
Or moved to a new state
Or not want to see your dumb face
I could call her up, be charming
Say: Remember you and me? What a delight!
But then a quiet voice, it tells me: It’s okay
You can sleep alone tonight
I could say: The curtain is open (curtain's open)
You don’t wanna miss this moonlight (this moonlight)
But then a holy voice, it tells me: You’re okay
You can sleep alone tonight
You can sleep alone
