The Woman Upstairs - Gino Vannelli

She had a chalk-white face and dandelion hair

T’was a wisp of a woman who lived in the tenement upstairs

Where the walls were so thin

You could hear her bleedin'

He was mountain of a man that stunk o' Brewdog ale

With a fist he swung like a curved-claw hammer on a nail

With all of his might

Most every night

Then it came one day on a cold day in July

A time to choose to either live or die

Like a low-hung fruit sprung from the Tree of Life

Yeah the moment had arrived

As he wrapped his hands around her throat

Before the kitchen lights went dark

She took hold of the butcher knife

And she drove it into his heart

She drove it into his heart

Soon the police came and they laid her in cuffs

Threw her in the back of a black and white and sure enough

They locked her away

And there she would stay

Until such time her case was assigned

To a public defender who had ten other trials on his mind

Thus the verdict was in

Before a word was spoken

So it came one day on a cold day in July

A time to choose to either live or die

Like a low-hung fruit sprung from the Tree of Life

Yeah the moment had arrived

As I heard her shout, «No way, no how!

No more blood and tears will I shed!»

And then there came that terrible silence

And that mountain of a man was dead

And that mountain of a man was dead

She weren’t no newsworthy face, no lady fair

Just a hard-luck woman livin' in the tenement upstairs

Who by a jury of her peers

Got twenty-five years