The stairs are there for leading you down
From where you were above the ground
And then you see they’re there
For falling down, falling down.And you, Father, calling me down
And pinning me against the wall
To ensure my distance from the platform’s
Edge and the train’s rushing path.Up above a cathedral made of stone
A toothless man playing harmonica tunes
And a waif walking along in the gray light
Of a long-gone day.
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