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