2,2012-June

Obviously she's referring to the Cream track White Room

In the white room with black curtains near the station.
Black-roof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings.
Silver horses run down moonbeams in your dark eyes.
She's just dressing, goodbye windows, tired starlings.
And I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines;
Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves.
You said no strings could secure you at the station.
Platform ticket, restless diesels, goodbye windows.
As I walked in such a bad time at the station.
As I walked out, felt my own needs just beginning.
And I'll wait in the queue when the trains come back;
Lie with you where the shadows run from themselves.