The sun goes down slow on this old border town
where the midnight air heats up when the cops come around.
And your mercury mood, like the sirens outside,
wild whirlin' lights and the tears that you cried
for long lost friends who've betrayed you and lied --
but Marie, in this room, it's just you and me.
You often talk of electric storms out west
that bore the thunder that beats in your chest.
Now you feel a cold wind blowin' on your skin
and all those wicked looks shame the fire within
'till you're just too scared to even begin --
but Marie, in this room, no one can see.
The faded motel lights signal the dead
and a thousand other things that I ought to have said.
Soon the restless sun will cut through the blinds
and this feeling of fear washed from our minds,
traded for the empty ache of a love left behind --
but Marie, tonight, I'm down on one knee.