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 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?

Aw, 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
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 that Jane's still awake
She sends her regards
Mark Capell on piano everybody, Mark Capell

Oh, 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

And If you ever come by here for Jane or for me
Well your enemy is sleeping
And his woman is now 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

Rest in peace, Leonard Cohen. Thank you, San Francisco