TRASH FISH
© Greg Keeler 1994

Hotel Livingston Montana
(to Hotel California)

On a bright mountain highway,
Cold wind through my clothes,
Cool smell of icicles,
Hanging off of my nose.
Up ahead in the distance,
I saw a light to the West.
My head was frozen and my eyes iced shut.
I had to stop for a rest.
A woman stood in the doorway.
I heard her hair whip and crack.
When she stepped out to greet me,
The wind blew her right back.
Then she lit up a candle,
But the wind blew it out.
As it howled down the corridor,
I thought I heard it shout. It said,

"Welcome to the hotel Livingston, Montana,
Such a windy place, such a windy place.
You better hang on at the Hotel Livingston, Montana.
Any time of day you could get blown away."

Her face is differently twisted,
From staring into the gales.
She's got lots of baggy, baggy clothes,
And she uses them for sails.
How she blows through the courtyard
And crashes into the walls.
Sometimes she stays standing.
Sometimes she falls.
So I called for the captain. I said,
"Please bring me a wind breaker.
If I don't find shelter soon,
I'm going to need an undertaker."
Still the wind it keeps howling
Down from the pass.
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to freeze your ass, and say,

"Welcome to the Hotel Livingston Montana,
Such a windy place, such a windy place.
We're getting blown out at the Hotel Livingston, Montana.
Fill your pants with rocks, or get blown for blocks

Breezes on the ceiling,
Gusts across the floor,
She said, "Someone get a blanket,
And stuff it underneath the door.
And in the master's chambers,
They're trying to keep warm.
They huddle in their sleeping bags,
But they can't keep out the storm.
Last thing I remember,
I was clinging to a rock,
My body horizontal
Like a great big human wind sock.
"Relax," said the night man.
"Let go and have a beer.
Struggle upwind if you want,
But it's all downwind from here."