Sitting in My Hotel
If my friends could see me now, driving round just like a film star
In a chauffeur driven jam jar, they would laugh
They would all be saying that it's not really me
They would all be asking who I'm trying to be
If my friends could see me now
Looking out my hotel window
Dressed in satin strides and two-tone daisy roots
If my friends could see me now I know they would smile
Sitting in my hotel, hiding from the dramas of this great big world
Seven stories high, looking at the world go by-y
Sitting in my hotel room, thinking about the countryside and sunny days in June
Trying to hide the gloom, sitting in my hotel room
If my friends could see me now dressing up in my bow-tie
Prancing round the room like some outrageous poove
They would tell me that I'm just being used
They would ask me what I'm trying to prove
They would see me in my hotel
Watching late shows till the morning
Writing songs for old time vaudeville revues
All my friends would ask me what it's all leading to
Sitting in my hotel, looking through the window at the people in the street
Seven stories high looking at the world go by
Sitting in my hotel, looking at the world outside
If my friends could see me now they would try to understand me
They would ask me what on earth I'm trying to prove
All my friends would ask me what it's all leading to
In a chauffeur driven jam jar, they would laugh
They would all be saying that it's not really me
They would all be asking who I'm trying to be
If my friends could see me now
Looking out my hotel window
Dressed in satin strides and two-tone daisy roots
If my friends could see me now I know they would smile
Sitting in my hotel, hiding from the dramas of this great big world
Seven stories high, looking at the world go by-y
Sitting in my hotel room, thinking about the countryside and sunny days in June
Trying to hide the gloom, sitting in my hotel room
If my friends could see me now dressing up in my bow-tie
Prancing round the room like some outrageous poove
They would tell me that I'm just being used
They would ask me what I'm trying to prove
They would see me in my hotel
Watching late shows till the morning
Writing songs for old time vaudeville revues
All my friends would ask me what it's all leading to
Sitting in my hotel, looking through the window at the people in the street
Seven stories high looking at the world go by
Sitting in my hotel, looking at the world outside
If my friends could see me now they would try to understand me
They would ask me what on earth I'm trying to prove
All my friends would ask me what it's all leading to
Credits
Writer(s): Raymond Douglas Davies
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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