Folks scurry in, folks scurry out—
Though the owners wish they’d stay,
Nobody plans to stay there long
If there’s another way
‘Cause the lumpy beds and the dirty walls
Mean the ratings aren’t four-star.
If we weren’t so tall, we’d be better off
In the trunk of the family car.
When this planet takes its final turn
As a cinder lost in space
And surviving roaches need a home…
They’ll still avoid this place.