Track 1 of the album Porch Light Left On · 2016
Room 214, Down the Long Corridor
“A long hotel corridor, forty doors, and a key card that had seen better days. I wrote it on the edge of the bed with the telly off.”
singer-songwriter · hotel-room folk · smooth singer-songwriter · 3:24
Lyrics
The carpet hums a pattern, red and gold and worn, Forty doors in silence, and a key card, creased and torn. My suitcase wheels are clicking like a slow and patient clock, Past the ice machine that rattles and a Do Not Disturb knock. So I walk the long corridor, nobody knows my name, Every door a small unfinished story, every light the same. But I carry home inside me, folded neatly in my coat, And I'm steady down the hallway, with a hum low in my throat. A tray of cold breakfast sits outside two-one-six, A pair of tiny sneakers, and a trail of little tricks. Somebody's laughing softly through a wall as thin as air, And I smile at strangers sleeping, and I'm glad that they are there. So I walk the long corridor, nobody knows my name, Every door a small unfinished story, every light the same. But I carry home inside me, folded neatly in my coat, And I'm steady down the hallway, with a hum low in my throat. Tomorrow there's a meeting, and a train, and a grey sky, But tonight there's one warm lamp and a window open wide. I will call the ones who love me, I will tell them I am fine, And the hallway will keep walking, one soft footstep at a time. So I walk the long corridor, nobody knows my name, Every door a small unfinished story, every light the same. But I carry home inside me, folded neatly in my coat, And I'm steady down the hallway, with a hum low in my throat. Two-one-four, two-one-four, Turn the key and close the door. Home inside me, steady, warm, Safe and sound out of the storm.