It's 4 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, Jane came by with the laundry She said that you gave it to her And I bet 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 And you came home with a lily marling 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 that 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 all good So I never tried And Jane came by with the lock of your hair She said that you gave it to her The night that you planned to go clear Sincerely, L. Cohen