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