Panama City Motel - Sugar

Don’t you know I need a place to stay

It’s only fifteen bucks a day

I didn’t want to end up here

But now I guess I need to stay

River red, runs like lead

And the smell of kerosene in my head

Stuck in here in this shithole

Reading foreign magazines instead

«But señor, I only have ten dollars

Can’t you give me a room for the night?»

We argue about currency and then

He says I can stay for the night

In this Panama City motel

I am out on the freeway again

A woman approaches in Barcelona

Walking down the Diagonalia

Spaghetti concrete overpasses

I keep grasping for something familiar