Last Resort

by Bradford Middleton

Brighton was the last resort after London city

And now I’m trapped in this town of ill-repute
In the hotel of Last Resort

A place where the partying neighbours, random drunks

And the incessant wailing of the fire alarm do their best
To ensure the impossibility of a good night’s sleep

This is driving me inextricably to the madhouse yet

I don’t understand why I love it so much and it feels like home
More than any other place I’ve lived alone

A place I can watch the dust blow forward and the dust

Blow back a place I call home throughout which
We end up getting savagely attacked by the wind

Such a savage storm would have some proclaiming

I wander lonely as a cloud but all I can say is
Like fuck I do all I want is to be at home