An old man waits in a hotel room Eight paces to the window, five to the bathroom Money in his pocket, his eager heart beating She knocks at the door, but all he can hear is All he can hear is Goodnight my baby Goodnight my baby Goodnight my baby Goodnight my baby She lays him down, then loses five buttons His heart runs laps around her, the boy feels something The islands of mould look down from the ceiling She whispers some cliche line, but all he can hear is All he can hear is Goodnight my baby Goodnight my baby Goodnight my baby Goodnight my baby