L'Hôtel - Michael Stipe

At number fifty-six, seven, eight, nine, it doesn’t matter

If a well known secrets to you, if you knock on the door

First once, then three more knocks, you’re let inside

Alone, sometimes even not alone

A maid without saying a word walks in front of you

With stairs in this hall ways, come on after another

Decorated with baroque bronzes, golden angels

Aphrodites and silent maces

If it’s not already occupied, say that you want the forty-four

It’s the room that here they call Cleopatras

And columns of its bed standing watch rococo style

Statues holding torches gaze benin

And between these slaves naked carved in ebony

Who will be the silent witnesses of this scene

While above a mirror reflects us

Slowly I miss my melody

Melody

Melody

Melody