(some lesbian-gay-bi-shit from my lesbian-gay-bi-life)

I remeber you well in the Chelsea Hotel
When you paralyze all your objectives
Trying to find out if the kisses we spent were wrong
and the whole night after we did it

Those were the reasons and that were the words
We had given us in your bed at midnight
And that was the plan we had called ours
Even we never held them really tight

But you got away, didn't you babe?
You just turned your face to him
When you got away, I have to admit

Maybe that's the our little Chelsea End

(not mine, it's Chelsea Hotel No. 2 by Leonard Cohen)