Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Three Flights Up, artist - Don McLean. Album song Tapestry, in the genre Иностранный рок
Date of issue: 30.09.1970
Record label: Capitol
Song language: English
Three Flights Up |
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? |