«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 that you planned to go clear
Did
you ever go clear?
Ah,
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, 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 the rose in your teeth
One
more thin gypsy thief
Well,
I see Jane’s awake
She
sends her regards
And
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 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 that you planned to go clear
Sincerely,
L Cohen»