Lyrics
It's four in the morning, the end of 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 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
Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night when you planned to go clear
Did you ever go clear?
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 Lily Marlene
And you treated, my woman
To a flake of your life
When she came back
She was nobody's wife
And I see you there, with a rose in your teeth
One more thin gypsy thief
Well I see Jane's awake
She sends her regards
What can I tell you my brother, my killer?
What can I possibly say?
Guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you
I'm glad that you stood in my way
If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me
Well, your enemy is sleeping
And his woman is free, yes
And thanks
For the trouble you took, from her eyes
I thought it was there, for good
So I never tried
And Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night when you planned to go clear
Sincerely, L. Cohen