Phoenix

The year Lady passed away, I couldn't get past 19, youth shrunken day to day, hated that she died alone, missing everyone from the Street, on the Avenue or Metro, but you were an angel, my heart was missing beats, sustained by rage, you arranged the loans, sang all her songs with me, put jelly on my bones, before her great fame, she knew what it was to be, promoted as an underground baby, then you stopped the phones, said I'd broken free, have to do it on your own, Now I sing about waste, but also her great resume', so when my voice is raised, it honours her sincerity.