Hell motel

(Alan Evans)

A man treats his home like a cheap motel

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I walk slowly down the stair
To a room full of despair 
Lifeless bodies lying there 
And wonder if I should care 

Ashtrays full of cigarette ends
Beer bottles left by your friends 
Some still here asleep on the floor 
An hotel with an open door 

I tell you that this is strange 
And every day you say it will change 
Then every night more of the same 
This is no laughing game 

The stale smell in the air 
Second hand smoke lingers there 
Beer bottles strewn across the floor 
An hotel with an open door 

Every day the same old mess 
A bombed out room in real distress 
Bodies slumped everywhere 
Same old stench of smoke filled air 

You treat this place like a cheap motel
I should tell you to go to hell
Then realise you're already there 
Either you don't know or you don't care 
© Alan Evans 2018