You tend the tomatoes where the glass walls lean
Green vines curl tight round the rusted machine
The iron ladder drinks the fading light
Shadows stretch long on the gravel at night
And you sing the old hymns in your chest voice low
While basil leaves tremble in dusk's purple glow
The fire escape holds every summer you've known
A chapel of steel where the sacred is grown
Your fingers know the soil's exact weight
How seedlings push through before it gets late
A muted trumpet from the downstairs flat
Bleeds through the glass where the night jasmine sat
You learned to breathe in four-part harmony
Before the world taught you how to flee
Now alto lines rise with the evening air
A counter-melody no one else hears there
And you sing the old hymns in your chest voice low
While basil leaves tremble in dusk's purple glow
The fire escape holds every summer you've known
A chapel of steel where the sacred is grown
The rhodes piano cracks through vinyl dust
Each chord a memory you learned to trust
The double bass walks where the sweet peas climb
Marking the hours in borrowed time
Tomorrow the city will wake up loud
But tonight the greenhouse wears its shroud
You press your palm to the cold iron rail
And whisper the descant without fail
And you sing the old hymns in your chest voice low
While basil leaves tremble in dusk's purple glow
The fire escape holds every summer you've known
A chapel of steel where the sacred is grown
Where the sacred is grown
Where the sacred is grown
The last note lingers on the tomato vine
Dusk settles deep on the iron design
