(Frank Christian)
|
We returned to that five room flat
|
Now it was empty and this the last time
|
There were blinking pictures
|
Of how we'd sit and chat
|
Some of them are scattered
|
Others shattered in my mind
|
|
[Chorus:]
|
It was always three flights up
|
Cathedral bells kept time
|
|
In the winter, a-chatterin' cold
|
While the building shook like ragweed in the wind
|
Stories from the heat pipes
|
We were told
|
But now they only leave me
|
With a half enchanted grin
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Bridge:]
|
Bicycles squeezed down alley ways into view
|
And towels warmed on oven doors
|
To not freeze
|
Was the only thing to do
|
|
I wonder if we kept to the fair warning
|
'Cause I can see it in the flowers
|
Dyin' on the window sill
|
I know we must be out by tomorrow mornin'
|
But am I goin' 'gainst my will
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Bridge]
|
|
[Repeat last verse]
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
-----------------
|
Three Flights Up
|
| Nanci Griffith |
