Glittering How did we ever get in this party? They must have thought we were the help The mid-June moon Over the World Trade Tomb I don’t want to leave this rooftop With anyone else The host is a rich old bachelor Loves what I paint Your platinum hair Is like permission to stare You say, considering the three thousand churches In this town there are precious few saints Chorus: And it is summer next week If I could have remembered to speak I would invite you to Coney Island Not easy surviving In a city where indifference Is often the closest thing to kindness I’m just wondering If you are also pretending Not sure I deserve a happy ending Glittering, glittering We were glittering They warned me it all ends Embittering Yet I swore it wouldn’t happen to us Flickering lighting Down the complex stairwell And you made a joke About us being murdered Then your brother got ashes Caught in his sunglasses At that point your attitude became Quite a bit sterner You accused me of contentment Cause I had something going While the absurdity of our lives Had been revealed bare According to my recollection We parted at an intersection The host advised you Are not exactly rare Chorus Twenty years later It’s happy hour At the bar where I tend for Rent You have the same circuitous grin Here at Tailspin And the corners of your five spot Are bent The art world hyped me Then forgot completely The end of my career couldn’t have been More discreet Never saw you on television But wouldn’t make an assumption You stare a second longer Before ordering another Whiskey neat