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written by Leonard Cohen It's four in the morning, the end of December I'm writting you now just to see if you're better New York is so cold but I like where I'm living There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening. I hear that you're building your little house deep in the desert you're living for nothing now, I hope you're keeping some kind of record. And Jane came by with a lock of your hair She said that you gave it to her On the night that you planned to go clear Did you ever go clear? Last time I saw you you looked so much older Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder You'd been to the station to meet every train And you came home without Lili Marlene And you treated my woman to a flake of your life And when she came back she was nobody's wife. Well I see you there with a rose in your teeth One more thin gypsy thief Well I see Jane's awake She send her regards. And what can I tell you my brother, my killer What can I possibly say? But I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you I'm glad you stood in my way! If you come by here, for Jane or for me Your enemy is sleeping now, and his woman is free. And thanks for the trouble you took from her eyes I thought it was there so I never tried. And Jane came by with a lock of your hair She said that you gave it to her On the night that you planned to go clear Sincerly, L. Cohen |
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