Song | Fourth Floor |
Artist | The Waifs |
Album | Up All Night |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
On the fourth floor of the building | |
In a shallow window box | |
She’s digging in the soil with a silver spoon | |
Her hands inside rubber gloves | |
Planting seeds pulling out weeds | |
The cycle of life is complete | |
Who would’ve thought it in a city of stone | |
Four floors above the street | |
I cannot tell what kind of flowers they are | |
I’m too far below on the street | |
But the colour they add to the building so drab | |
Brings a warm splash of welcome relief | |
Something worthwhile for the sun to shine on | |
A reason to radiate heat | |
Well that small window box puts a skip in my feet | |
Four floors below on the street | |
For every good seed she plants in the soil | |
There’s a dozen bad waiting to grow | |
To strangle the goodness she’s trying to nurture | |
And kill all the seed that she’s sown | |
Every time you water the garden you also water the weeds | |
A profound illustration of sin and temptation | |
Four floors above the street | |
Some people don’t understand why she does it | |
Some people look for a reason | |
Maybe she just likes the feel of the soil | |
Or keeping in tune with the seasons | |
Maybe she has so much pride in herself | |
Got to keep it all visually pleasing | |
A small paradise in a world of concrete | |
Four floors above the street | |
A small paradise in a world of concrete | |
A small paradise in a world of concrete | |
A small paradise in a world of concrete | |
Four floors above the street |
On the fourth floor of the building | |
In a shallow window box | |
She' s digging in the soil with a silver spoon | |
Her hands inside rubber gloves | |
Planting seeds pulling out weeds | |
The cycle of life is complete | |
Who would' ve thought it in a city of stone | |
Four floors above the street | |
I cannot tell what kind of flowers they are | |
I' m too far below on the street | |
But the colour they add to the building so drab | |
Brings a warm splash of welcome relief | |
Something worthwhile for the sun to shine on | |
A reason to radiate heat | |
Well that small window box puts a skip in my feet | |
Four floors below on the street | |
For every good seed she plants in the soil | |
There' s a dozen bad waiting to grow | |
To strangle the goodness she' s trying to nurture | |
And kill all the seed that she' s sown | |
Every time you water the garden you also water the weeds | |
A profound illustration of sin and temptation | |
Four floors above the street | |
Some people don' t understand why she does it | |
Some people look for a reason | |
Maybe she just likes the feel of the soil | |
Or keeping in tune with the seasons | |
Maybe she has so much pride in herself | |
Got to keep it all visually pleasing | |
A small paradise in a world of concrete | |
Four floors above the street | |
A small paradise in a world of concrete | |
A small paradise in a world of concrete | |
A small paradise in a world of concrete | |
Four floors above the street |
On the fourth floor of the building | |
In a shallow window box | |
She' s digging in the soil with a silver spoon | |
Her hands inside rubber gloves | |
Planting seeds pulling out weeds | |
The cycle of life is complete | |
Who would' ve thought it in a city of stone | |
Four floors above the street | |
I cannot tell what kind of flowers they are | |
I' m too far below on the street | |
But the colour they add to the building so drab | |
Brings a warm splash of welcome relief | |
Something worthwhile for the sun to shine on | |
A reason to radiate heat | |
Well that small window box puts a skip in my feet | |
Four floors below on the street | |
For every good seed she plants in the soil | |
There' s a dozen bad waiting to grow | |
To strangle the goodness she' s trying to nurture | |
And kill all the seed that she' s sown | |
Every time you water the garden you also water the weeds | |
A profound illustration of sin and temptation | |
Four floors above the street | |
Some people don' t understand why she does it | |
Some people look for a reason | |
Maybe she just likes the feel of the soil | |
Or keeping in tune with the seasons | |
Maybe she has so much pride in herself | |
Got to keep it all visually pleasing | |
A small paradise in a world of concrete | |
Four floors above the street | |
A small paradise in a world of concrete | |
A small paradise in a world of concrete | |
A small paradise in a world of concrete | |
Four floors above the street |