It's a mean breakup when you leave your girl alone with Gene Kelly in a hotel room...

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Songwriting inspiration comes from the strangest places. Take this one, for example...

Back a while ago, a newspaper columnist friend of mine posted something that sounded a little mysterious and desperate on her blog that was basically: "If you and I were stuck in prison for 20 years, what kind of stories would you tell me? Would you sing me a lullaby?"

As usual, I was going to make a nonsense comment like: "Hey, I can't sing you a story, like sailors do. I can't tell you a sweet lullaby."

Somehow, those lines got stuck into the middle of this dark little song about a guy who may or may not have done something terrible to the girlfriend who just dumped him in a hotel room watching "On the Town." (Don't ask. I have no idea where this crap comes from.)

It was late last September
In a Hilton hotel room
Our life flashed in front of my eyes
I cannot remember
The smell of your perfume
But I remember the movie that night

Gene Kelly was dancing
All over Manhattan
While you smoked your last cigarette
The rain hit the window
Like pellets of poison
My heart lying dead in my chest

You told me the truth about Elvis
You said that our love wasn't real

And I can't sing a story
Like sailors do
I can't tell you a sweet lullaby
My rhymes are not pretty
My dreams are not handsome
I can't tell you an easy goodbye

I remember the beautiful
Smile on your face
As I left you asleep on the bed
I hated to leave you
Alone with Gene Kelly
Even though that I knew he was dead

You told me our life was a movie
You said it had just reached the end

And I can't sing a story
Like sailors do
I can't tell you a sweet lullaby
My rhymes are not pretty
My dreams, they ain't handsome
I can't tell you an easy goodbye

I'll see you in heaven
Or maybe in hell
I can't tell you an easy goodbye