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Spoken version
A recorded reading of “Fourth-Floor Window”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
At one, the fourth-floor window is blue with the fan moving the curtain. Across the alley, the laundromat has lost half its word. I lift my phone to the glass. Not to call. To see whether the dark can carry a signal. A delivery bike parts the rain. Somewhere below, a kettle begins. You raise a book against the pane, then lower it. The room stays lit. For tonight, that square is enough to keep the street from closing.
Lyrics
(ooh) Fourth-floor window, blue at one. Curtain moving in the fan. Across the alley, someone sings. I know you when you turn your hand. The laundromat is closing down. Its sign is missing half a word. I hold my phone up to the glass. And hope the light is heard. We do not need to call tonight. We do not need to make it right. Just give the dark one little mark. Just let me see you there. Leave the fourth-floor light. I will know you are alive. Leave the fourth-floor light. I will make it through the night. A delivery bike cuts through the rain. A kettle starts below. You lift a book against the pane. Then set it down real slow. The window is enough for now. The street can make us wait. One square of light. (mm-mm) One answer without a word. Leave the fourth-floor light. I will know you are alive. Leave the fourth-floor light. I will make it through the night. (mm-mm)
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