Rain ruins every summer day
So I guess I’ll stay where it’s safe to play
Smoke murmured from below
“Wait your turn to speak”
A grey-gowned figure on the stairs
Came down to wage a war upon the rest
Lamplighters in the library
If the floorboards creak, will they tell on me?
See me creep a step or so behind,
a father to myself?
Up from the bottom of the world
To float there, an inch above the earth?
Tame lions, soldiers on the plain
Fire engine red
Underneath my bed
In the night, I woke you like a child
Calling out their names
When I was clearing out some things from my mother’s house, I found a photo of myself aged about seven. I had jumped off a small concrete wall onto the pavement, just at the instant the picture was taken, so I appeared to be hovering in mid air. I remember trying several times to get exactly this effect. I felt such a strong connection with that boy and his desire to fly. I wanted to meet him. I wanted to spend time with him. I wanted to reach out and tell him everything would turn out OK. I suppose it was the first stirrings of my desire to be a parent. When I eventually had my first son, I remembered that feeling and wrote this song about it. It’s about the connection between an adult and his younger self, between a father and his son, and about where the edges blur psychologically. The outro is probably the closest I’ve ever got to the music that, deep down, I’d really like to make. So it’s fitting that it’s the last thing you hear on Great Falls.
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Lyrics and sleevenotes for The Fire Stairs
