I’m Checking Out

Pochette de l'album Philippe DeBarge.

Cette histoire de chambre d’hôtel a des accents très dylaniens.

Paroles

Taking one look at my fuzzy hair, the desk [???] started to say:
« Sign here and take your key, son, and try to keep it off the bed »
When I said that I would see to it, but instead right in the [???]
He said « that ain’t what’s hanging me up, I was talking about your hat »

Check check check out
Check check check out
Check check check out
Check check check out

On my way down to the restaurant, I passed a cocktail bar
I stepped inside for a Cointreau, but I decided to have a [jar?]
« You won’t get a drink out of me, » said the barman as he looked down to the [floor?]
And the [lone?] came [???] to explain just how to use a door

Check check check out (I’m checkin’ out)
Check check check out (I’m checkin’ out)
Check check check out (I’m checkin’ out)
Check check check out

« Take me to the dirty floor room third and twenty-nine »
That’s what I told the [???] when I was staring inside
I crossed his [???] to find [???] too soon
‘Cause looking round his [???] he said « I’m sorry son, not my room »

Check check check out (I’m checkin’ out)
Check check check out (I’m checkin’ out)
Check check check out (I’m checkin’ out)
Check check check out

Got to get out of here, can’t take no more

When I got back to my room [???] still the [???]
To my surprise, she’d unpacked my case, thrown the clothes around the floor
I reached for my bag [???]
[???] she was screaming for the law

Check check check out (I’m checkin’ out)
Check check check out (I’m checkin’ out)
Check check check out (I’m checkin’ out)
Check check check out