Downstairs it's dark most of the time
The air is stale with the smell of wine
She says she'll clean it up sometime
She paints her nails and draws the blinds
"I swear I'll cut off all my hair"
And every night's the night before
A breakfast bowl on the bathroom floor
Red-eyed she stumbles through the door
But I know she's on her own
Upstairs it's a different story
Every day's like Sunday morning
And the sun begins to shine
There's a tree outside my window
Brilliant green and golden yellow
And that happiness is mine
Composição: The Lucksmiths
