It뭩 four in the morning, the end of December
I뭢 writing you now just to see if you뭨e better
New York is cold, but I like where I뭢 living
There뭩 music on Clinton Street all through the evening.
I hear that you뭨e building your little house deep in the desert
You뭨e living for nothing now, I hope you뭨e 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
You뭗 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 nobody뭩 wife.
Well I see you there with the rose in your teeth
One more thin gypsy thief
Well I see Jane뭩 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
I뭢 glad you stood in my way.
If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me
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