Day 169: White Room

Bowling down winding lanes in deepest Hertfordshire, singing along to the radio and channel-hopping. 

Here's 1970s self-styled 'supergroup' Cream, with 'The White Room'. When you only know the first seven words, you have to improvise the rest. 

One of these versions is theirs.  One is mine. 


In the white room with black curtains near the station
Blackroof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings
Silver horses ran down moonbeams in your dark eyes
Dawnlight smiles on you leaving, my contentment

In the white room with black curtains and a sofa
There's a telly, plus a bean bag, and some nick-nacks
Empty bottles and newspapers and a menu
From the Thai on the corner, by the Abbey

You're welcome.