At the Top of the Stairs

Sitting in my room at the top of the stairs

A bittersweet poet in a tragic affair

Wondering at the past and the future

Picking the stitches out of each suture

And I look out the window, see nothing at all

A world that is dead, lost in free fall

My heart in the past, though onward we go

A future of nothing, washed away in the flow

Cranking up the stereo at the top of the stairs

Death metal anthems and a folk singer shares

The tales of long ago, radio unfriendly

Their weapon is truth, their motives are deadly

And I look out the window, see nothing at all

I rage for the lost and those in free fall

Nothing to live for, yet onward we go

To a future of nothing, washed away in the flow

Try and tell me I'm wrong, nothing remains in this song

Break my heart again, stabbed in the back with my own pen

Nothing remains, nothing remains alive in my heart

A comic tragedy in which I play the clown's part

So go ahead a laugh, cut the cards in half

Draw the death card and use it for your epitaph

I'll remain here at the top of the stairs

A bittersweet poet writing a tragic affair

Hoping that somewhere, maybe somewhere

I can reach someone who cares