Fighting
Upstairs
©2002
Gibbens/Weston
Though they were happy being bride and groom,
They fit together like a knife and spoon.
Now there’s yelling and tears
And the grinding of gears
As they’re driving the hearse
Of love in reverse
And the violence flares
Of fighting upstairs.
Once I could hear him love
her
With a feeling;
Now only harsh words come down
Through the ceiling.
Once I could hear someone moaning
“My darling”.
Now we turn our music loud
To cover their snarling.
She used to think he had
a touch of class,
He used to think she had the cutest arse.
Now’s there trouble in store
Behind their bedroom door
And the life that they share
Takes the shape of a pear
And two grizzly bears
Are fighting upstairs.
Once there was sweetness
and light
In their kitchen.
Now in the shadows they write
Silence fiction.
Once when she woke up she’d bring
In some breakfast.
Now when she wakes up she thinks
Of breaking his neck first.
I hope the neighbours underneath
our feet
Will never hear us beating love’s retreat.
God make the virus
Of discord pass by us,
Cause they’ve struck their mismatch
And the whole block could catch.
So we’re sending up prayers:
Stop fighting upstairs.
Back to Rockingham Street
