| (difford/tilbrook) | |
| He drove up to the motel | |
| In his town and country car | |
| He watched the working women | |
| With the field hands from the farm | |
| He walked into the lobby | |
| With his pleased to see you smile | |
| Scribbled on to the register | |
| His fictitious name and smiled | |
| The footsteps of a young girl | |
| Came tapping along the hall | |
| The outline of his features | |
| Were shadowed on the wall | |
| She stood a little nervous | |
| Half lit by the neon light | |
| That flashed in many colours | |
| Through the darkness of the night | |
| The skin on his face | |
| Like a well worn saddle | |
| Smiled as he said goodnight | |
| At the melody motel | |
| It was business as usual | |
| As the girls wiped the tears from their eyes | |
| His shirt lay by his bedside | |
| His jeans down by his feet | |
| She swallowed hard and mumbled | |
| With the key between her teeth | |
| On went the television | |
| The picture flickering slow | |
| Top cat in the alley way | |
| As they sat there all alone | |
| He drove back up his driveway | |
| In his town and country car | |
| His wife was cooking chicken | |
| With a baby in her arms | |
| The smell of home cooked dinner | |
| Filled the air at home that night | |
| Screaming officer dibble | |
| In the tv's flickering light | |
| Slumped in his favourite armchair | |
| His face as grey as stone | |
| His feet up on the table | |
| Next to the chicken bones | |
| He seemed to show no feelings | |
| Picking corn out from his teeth | |
| Police down at the motel | |
| As the blood dried on the sheets |
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