The Burning Hell - Travel Writers
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I left my apartment for the station
I bought a ticket on the train
And when I reached my destination
There were scattered clouds and a chance of rain
I looked around for a hotel
Nothing fancy, just ok
I found a door and rang the doorbell
This was the place where I would stay
I took a room and took a shower
Washed the traveling from my skin
I watched TV for half an hour
Then I went back down again
And then I asked reception
To recommend a place to go
I got directions to museums
So I went to one of those
At the coat-check I was given a numbered disc of hard black stone
As they placed my bag high up on a shelf
It felt cool and heavy in my hand as I held it there
And I smiled to myself:
I think I’ll be a travel writer, and write about where I’ve been
And fill in all the spaces between leaving and coming home again
I bought a ticket on the train
And when I reached my destination
There were scattered clouds and a chance of rain
I looked around for a hotel
Nothing fancy, just ok
I found a door and rang the doorbell
This was the place where I would stay
I took a room and took a shower
Washed the traveling from my skin
I watched TV for half an hour
Then I went back down again
And then I asked reception
To recommend a place to go
I got directions to museums
So I went to one of those
At the coat-check I was given a numbered disc of hard black stone
As they placed my bag high up on a shelf
It felt cool and heavy in my hand as I held it there
And I smiled to myself:
I think I’ll be a travel writer, and write about where I’ve been
And fill in all the spaces between leaving and coming home again
