Hotel California - my tribute and interpretation
When the steely strings gets picked to play,
the dark desert highway is life past the gates.
I’m sure not bound for Californ-i-a..
no doubt, no turnpike –cool breeze, true and straight.
This place we call life is the shimmering light,
the smell of Colitas can open some doors.
The lure of fixation pulls you from the night,
into illusion the mission bell calls.
Will heaven or hell be this time around?
-'corridored voices’ a lure to a trap.
Too late for your soul the walls close surround,
that candle can’t guide you, no light thru’ the gap.
Tiffany twisters hang mirrors on the ceiling,
the gift of the spirit thought cheap '69.
Now’s all piss and paint, just pretence with no meaning;
pretty boys snort powder - I’m calling for wine...
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