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 your building
Your little house deep in the desert
You're living for nothing now
I hope you're keeping some kind of a 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? The last time I 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 alone without Lili Marlene
And you treated my woman to flake of your life
And when she came back she was nobody's wife Well, 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 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 your 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 you hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear
Sincerely, L. Cohen