Famous Blue Raincoat

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 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?

Ah, 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 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 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 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