Mirrors on the ceiling, The

Mirrors on the ceiling,
The pink champagne on ice
And she said “We are all just prisoners here of our own device”
And in the masters chambers They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives
But they just can’t kill the beast

Last thing I remember I was running for the door
I had to find the passage back to the place I was before
“Relax,” said the night man, “We are programmed to receive
You can check out anytime you like but you can never leave”