FOURTH FLOOR (written by Josh Cunningham)



On the fourth floor of the building

In a shallow window box

She’s digging in the soil with a silver spoon

Her hands inside rubber gloves

Planting seeds pulling out weeds

The cycle of life is complete

Who would’ve thought it in a city of stone

Four floors above the street



I cannot tell what kind of flowers they are

I’m too far below on the street

But the colour they add to the building so drab

Brings a warm splash of welcome relief

Something worthwhile for the sun to shine on

A reason to radiate heat

Well that small window box puts a skip in my feet

Four floors below on the street



For every good seed she plants in the soil

There’s a dozen bad waiting to grow

To strangle the goodness she’s trying to nurture

And kill all the seed that she’s sown

Every time you water the garden you also water the weeds

A profound illustration of sin and temptation

Four floors above the street



Some people don’t understand why she does it

Some people look for a reason

Maybe she just likes the feel of the soil

Or keeping in tune with the seasons

Maybe she has so much pride in herself

Got to keep it all visually pleasing

A small paradise in a world of concrete

Four floors above the street



A small paradise in a world of concrete

A small paradise in a world of concrete

A small paradise in a world of concrete

Four floors above the street






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