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©2017 music and words by John R. Black, 42nd Street Music Seattle 


Empty dumpsters full of sound 

Screeches in the night 

Vacant streets call out loud 

For those we left behind 

Abandoned homes rise at dawn 

No-one to awaken 

Foundations we relied upon 

Now have all been shaken 

Oh Yeah, Oh Yeah, Oh Yeah 



Oh, the stairway of my mind 

How many steps do I have to take 

Oh, the stairway of my mind 

Got these troubles I can’t shake 

Is there a secret stairway you know? 

I want out of this hell hole 

I want out of this hell hole 


Empty rooms in houses 

Empty desks and drawers 

MemOries scattered in the wind 

As if their off to war 

Sour love soaked in brine 

Like words without a song 

No children left to shine a light 

On what has gone wrong 

Oh Yeah, Oh Yeah, Oh Yeah 




Call a number, get some help 

Analyze this plight 

For God sakes can’t you see 

Nothing is alright 

Call the police, state your fear 

Your neighbor packs a gun 

Whose got the answer here 

I hope there’s some 

Oh Yeah, Oh Yeah 

I hope there’s some 

Politicians don’t give a damn 

They say nothing’s wrong 

They say buck up do your job 

Before your job is gone 

No use callin’ Dr. King 

They say he’s dead 

No use callin’ JFK 

They shot him in the head 

Oh Yeah, Oh Yeah, Oh Yeah 

I hope there’s some 




You got to show me the secret stairway you know (3X)

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