Top of The StairwellStanding at the top of the stairwell laughing with my friends, laughing with my friends. Standing at the top of the stairwell, laughing never ends even when it should. All of you with all of me: we’ll hang together or we’ll disappear, whenever we please.
You’re still standing there on broken heels. You’ve been tossed out of those automobiles. Carrying a cracked compact mirror and some stolen Maybelline. Who’s gonna believe you’re a woman? Anyone who needs to, anybody desperate at the end of the night. We collected what we earned, forgot what we learned and we all met up at the top.
Standing at the top of the stairwell, laughing ourselves to death. Falling down and crawling our way back up. Laughing at hell, but feeling like we just got over on everyone. We could have stolen the streetlights. We could have shattered the city and worn it on our fingers. The city feels like plunder. We got over, until we got under.
Standing at the top of the stairwell, laughing with my friends. And it feels right to need everyone every night, feels like that attention isn’t even worth the mention. I like that picture you took of me with my front tooth out, I’m still smiling. Underneath the 222. (That’s a bar that we went to.) When we couldn’t pay the rent. When the money was all spent. We always felt we had what we needed, but we didn’t.