Written by Leonard Cohen

It’s four in the morning
the end of December
I’m writing you now
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
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
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
torn at the shoulder
been to the station
to meet every train
You came home alone
without Lili Marlene

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
I see Jane’s awake
She sends her regards

What can I tell you
my brother, my killer
What can I possibly say
Hey, I guess that I miss you
I guess I forgive you
I’m glad you stood in my way
If you ever come by
for Jane or for me
Your enemy is sleeping
and his woman is free

Well, 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
On the night that you planned to go clear
Sincerely,
L. Cohen