Three Flights Up Lyrics - Don Mclean

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 

Related 

Naughty & Nice Christmas Songs 

5 Totally Underrated Christmas Songs 

20 Classic Christmas Lyrics to Celebrate The Holiday Season 

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... 

Photos 

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?