He tends the ferns in rusted gold
While city winds blow sharp and cold
Under the stairs of blackened steel
The humid air is all he feels
Iron Greenhouse in the gray
Keeping all the cold away
Glass and metal hold the heat
High above the concrete street
He clips the stems with silver shears
The city noise is in his ears
He waters moss on copper wire
Watching traffic like a fire
Iron Greenhouse in the gray
Keeping all the cold away
Glass and metal hold the heat
High above the concrete street
The fire escape is dripping wet
A summer dusk he won't forget
He plants a seed in plastic pots
While the subway engine rots
Iron Greenhouse in the gray
Keeping all the cold away
Glass and metal hold the heat
High above the concrete street
He wears a coat of faded green
The strangest sight the block has seen
He laughs alone at midnight rain
Pressing palms against the pane
Iron Greenhouse in the gray
Keeping all the cold away
Glass and metal hold the heat
High above the concrete street
Iron Greenhouse
High above the street
Iron Greenhouse
