It's twelve in the morning, in early December
I'm writing you now just to see if you're better
New York is cold, but I like where I'm living
There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening
I heard that you're building your little house out in the desert
You're living for nothing now
I hope you're keeping some kind of record
Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of her hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear
Did you ever go clear?
Oh, the last time we 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
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 the rose in your teeth
One more thin gypsy thief
Well, I see Jane's awake
She sends her regards
Now, what can I tell you, my brother, my killer?
What can I possibly say?
I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you
I'm glad that you stood in my way
And if you ever come back
For Jane or for me
Well, your enemy's sleeping
And your woman is free
Well, and thanks for the trouble
You took from her eyes
I thought it was there for good
So I never tried
And Jane came back with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear
Sincerely, L. Cohen
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack, a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in
That's how the light gets in
That's how the light gets in