Phoenix

From the corner of third and Washington
 You can't see where your brother went
 Out somewhere past the beat cops
 And beautiful women who work for the government
 They walk by in air-conditioned tunnels
 That are a cut above the street
 While I sweat in my hot coffee
 And daydream about how we might meet
 ♪
 Your mother asked for a picture
 She says today's your birthday
 In some strung out western stutter
 Making all the world her ashtray
 She adjusts her aviators
 With an absent shaking hand
 Tilts the camera forward 45 degrees
 And calls out modeling commands
 ♪
 When we used to go to parties
 You'd spend an hour before the mirror
 And I'd drink your gin
 And ask about your high school souvenirs
 Tacked on the wall above the bed
 An old Inkjet collage
 But you were never much for talking
 So I knelt to your mirage
 ♪
 We'd walk the three blocks westbound
 In the moonlit Philly fall
 And the party would be grand
 All our friends would grin with pride
 All our friends would be so drunk
 And have such pleasant things to say
 And at last, we'd see each other
 In the way that we had dreamed to be seen
 ♪
 Those nights your house kept secret
 We'd stumble up the stairs
 My hands tore through your records
 While your hands unpinned your hair
 The both of us still green enough
 To remove the other's clothes
 A quiet signal of devotion
 That I am happy to have known