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 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 Just one more thin gypsy thief Well, I see Jane's awake She sends her regards.
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