Song | Three Flights Up |
Artist | Don McLean |
Album | Tapestry |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
On the first floor… | |
On the first floor… | |
On the first floor there's a young girl reeling | |
Her body's numb and without feeling | |
As illusions dance on the midnight ceiling | |
Now she's falling, now she's kneeling | |
It's almost like she's bowed in prayer | |
A savior she's about to bear | |
She screams for help, but no one's there… | |
On the first floor… | |
On the first floor people walk the halls | |
But none can hear her desperate calls | |
There is no sound beyond the walls | |
So to the telephone she crawls | |
She telephones her only friend | |
The one on whom she can depend | |
But the phone rings on without an end | |
Then rings no more… | |
On the first floor… | |
There's a party on the second floor | |
And through the picture window you can see them all | |
They're laughing and they're dancing | |
Admiring the | |
Renoir that's hanging on the wall | |
But in the master bedroom where the coats are piled high | |
A silent, saddened lady thinks of what it's like to die | |
And as she dwells on all the years she still has left to face | |
She wonders how she'll ever find someone to take his place | |
Then suddenly she's jarred by the ringing of the phone | |
Oh, why do you ring now, just when | |
I want to be alone? | |
So she walks into the bathroom and drinks some water from a cup | |
But the telephone stops ringing just before she picks it up… | |
My family was very poor | |
So I worked hard to be secure | |
I married one | |
I had to wed | |
And not the one | |
I loved instead | |
When I was young my blood ran wild | |
But we stayed married for the child | |
Now three flights up, | |
I'm all alone | |
My wife is dead, my child is grown | |
My daughter leads a wayward life | |
She's been a failure as a wife | |
And though she lives just one floor down | |
She never calls or comes around… | |
Step off the platform and onto the train | |
Look out your window and into the rain | |
Watch all the buildings that pass as you ride | |
And count all the stories that go on inside | |
And then ask yourself if it must be this way | |
Should walls and doors and plaster ceilings | |
Separate us from each others' feelings? |
On the first floor | |
On the first floor | |
On the first floor there' s a young girl reeling | |
Her body' s numb and without feeling | |
As illusions dance on the midnight ceiling | |
Now she' s falling, now she' s kneeling | |
It' s almost like she' s bowed in prayer | |
A savior she' s about to bear | |
She screams for help, but no one' s there | |
On the first floor | |
On the first floor people walk the halls | |
But none can hear her desperate calls | |
There is no sound beyond the walls | |
So to the telephone she crawls | |
She telephones her only friend | |
The one on whom she can depend | |
But the phone rings on without an end | |
Then rings no more | |
On the first floor | |
There' s a party on the second floor | |
And through the picture window you can see them all | |
They' re laughing and they' re dancing | |
Admiring the | |
Renoir that' s hanging on the wall | |
But in the master bedroom where the coats are piled high | |
A silent, saddened lady thinks of what it' s like to die | |
And as she dwells on all the years she still has left to face | |
She wonders how she' ll ever find someone to take his place | |
Then suddenly she' s jarred by the ringing of the phone | |
Oh, why do you ring now, just when | |
I want to be alone? | |
So she walks into the bathroom and drinks some water from a cup | |
But the telephone stops ringing just before she picks it up | |
My family was very poor | |
So I worked hard to be secure | |
I married one | |
I had to wed | |
And not the one | |
I loved instead | |
When I was young my blood ran wild | |
But we stayed married for the child | |
Now three flights up, | |
I' m all alone | |
My wife is dead, my child is grown | |
My daughter leads a wayward life | |
She' s been a failure as a wife | |
And though she lives just one floor down | |
She never calls or comes around | |
Step off the platform and onto the train | |
Look out your window and into the rain | |
Watch all the buildings that pass as you ride | |
And count all the stories that go on inside | |
And then ask yourself if it must be this way | |
Should walls and doors and plaster ceilings | |
Separate us from each others' feelings? |
On the first floor | |
On the first floor | |
On the first floor there' s a young girl reeling | |
Her body' s numb and without feeling | |
As illusions dance on the midnight ceiling | |
Now she' s falling, now she' s kneeling | |
It' s almost like she' s bowed in prayer | |
A savior she' s about to bear | |
She screams for help, but no one' s there | |
On the first floor | |
On the first floor people walk the halls | |
But none can hear her desperate calls | |
There is no sound beyond the walls | |
So to the telephone she crawls | |
She telephones her only friend | |
The one on whom she can depend | |
But the phone rings on without an end | |
Then rings no more | |
On the first floor | |
There' s a party on the second floor | |
And through the picture window you can see them all | |
They' re laughing and they' re dancing | |
Admiring the | |
Renoir that' s hanging on the wall | |
But in the master bedroom where the coats are piled high | |
A silent, saddened lady thinks of what it' s like to die | |
And as she dwells on all the years she still has left to face | |
She wonders how she' ll ever find someone to take his place | |
Then suddenly she' s jarred by the ringing of the phone | |
Oh, why do you ring now, just when | |
I want to be alone? | |
So she walks into the bathroom and drinks some water from a cup | |
But the telephone stops ringing just before she picks it up | |
My family was very poor | |
So I worked hard to be secure | |
I married one | |
I had to wed | |
And not the one | |
I loved instead | |
When I was young my blood ran wild | |
But we stayed married for the child | |
Now three flights up, | |
I' m all alone | |
My wife is dead, my child is grown | |
My daughter leads a wayward life | |
She' s been a failure as a wife | |
And though she lives just one floor down | |
She never calls or comes around | |
Step off the platform and onto the train | |
Look out your window and into the rain | |
Watch all the buildings that pass as you ride | |
And count all the stories that go on inside | |
And then ask yourself if it must be this way | |
Should walls and doors and plaster ceilings | |
Separate us from each others' feelings? |