Hotel Illness — Black Crowes

Oh good heavens, baby where's my medicine? I must have left it outside with my etiquette The undertaker's rule of thumb It's hard to talk with a novocain tongue

This room smells like hotel illness The scars I hide are now your business I can't seem to make hair nor hide of this No baby love is not a punishment.

Hypnotize by your rotten behavior This week's fashion is last year's flavor I got a head full of sermons and a mouth full of spiders The politics of the world's greatest liar

So tell me baby is it true all those things that they say about you...