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