"Your Brother, The Poet" as written by and Brian Wright....
So, you scratched at the door
Like a cat in the rain
And at that I had you
Dead to rights
So I looked to be sure
That your hair was the same
But something had scared you
Ghostly white

So, I lent you a coat
And it fell off your shoulders
I laughed at the way
It swallowed you whole
Girl, it’s so nice to see ya
How long has it been
Since Los Angeles has seen any snow

And your brother’s up in New York City
The city that he loved so well
And he’s plagiarizing promises
With the ghost of Dylan Thomas
On the ninth floor of the Chelsea Hotel

So a penny a thought
And a nickel a prayer
If we just save a little
It’ll just get us there
So give back the nickels
That I’ve tossed in the well
Cause summer in San Francisco
Is colder than hell

So I dressed up the truth,
In a big blue hat,
And I walked the old girl right down to the service,
And they all asked about you,
And the troubles you’ve had
And everyone seemed to believe
You deserved it

And your brother’s up in New York City….

I looked all around
And no one could find you
Just had to remind you
Of the girl on a train
She was waving and scared
She was tangled and fair
Hair danced in the window
As the train pulled away

Lyrics submitted by tomtimothy

Your Brother, The Poet song meanings
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