6
   

LEONARD COHEN LYRICS

 
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Sat 14 Feb, 2004 12:06 am
LeavingGreen Sleeves

Alas, my love, you did me wrong,
to cast me out discourteously,
for I have loved you so long,
delighting in your very company.
Now if you intend to show me disdain,
don't you know it all the more enraptures me,
for even so I still remain your lover in captivity.
Green sleeves, you're all alone,
the leaves have fallen, the men have gone.
Green sleeves, there's no one home,
not even the Lady Green Sleeves

I sang my songs, I told my lies,
to lie between your matchless thighs.
And ain't it fine, ain't it wild
to finally end our exercise
Then I saw you naked in the early dawn,
oh, I hoped you would be someone new.
I reached for you but you were gone,
so lady I'm going too.

Green sleeves, you're all alone ...

Green sleeves, you're all alone,
the leaves have fallen, the men have all gone home.
Green sleeves, it's so easily done,
leaving the Lady Green Sleeves.
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Sat 14 Feb, 2004 09:19 pm
Story of Isaac

The door it opened slowly,
my father he came in,
I was nine years old.
And he stood so tall above me,
his blue eyes they were shining
and his voice was very cold.
He said, "I've had a vision
and you know I'm strong and holy,
I must do what I've been told."
So he started up the mountain,
I was running, he was walking,
and his axe was made of gold.
Well, the trees they got much smaller,
the lake a lady's mirror,
we stopped to drink some wine.
Then he threw the bottle over.
Broke a minute later
and he put his hand on mine.
Thought I saw an eagle
but it might have been a vulture,
I never could decide.
Then my father built an altar,
he looked once behind his shoulder,
he knew I would not hide.

You who build these altars now
to sacrifice these children,
you must not do it anymore.
A scheme is not a vision
and you never have been tempted
by a demon or a god.
You who stand above them now,
your hatchets blunt and bloody,
you were not there before,
when I lay upon a mountain
and my father's hand was trembling
with the beauty of the word.

And if you call me brother now,
forgive me if I inquire,
"Just according to whose plan?"
When it all comes down to dust
I will kill you if I must,
I will help you if I can.
When it all comes down to dust
I will help you if I must,
I will kill you if I can.
And mercy on our uniform,
man of peace or man of war,
the peacock spreads his fan.
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Sun 15 Feb, 2004 11:06 am
Guests
One by one, the guests arrive
The guests are coming through
The open-hearted many
The broken-hearted few
And no one knows where the night is going
And no one knows why the wine is flowing
Oh love I need you
I need you
I need you
I need you
Oh . . . I need you now

And those who dance, begin to dance
Those who weep begin
And "Welcome, welcome" cries a voice
"Let all my guests come in."

And no one knows where the night is going ...

And all go stumbling through that house
in lonely secrecy
Saying "Do reveal yourself"
or "Why has thou forsaken me?"

And no one knows where the night is going ...

All at once the torches flare
The inner door flies open
One by one they enter there
In every style of passion

And no one knows where the night is going ...

And here they take their sweet repast
While house and grounds dissolve
And one by one the guests are cast
Beyond the garden wall

And no one knows where the night is going ...

Those who dance, begin to dance
Those who weep begin
Those who earnestly are lost
Are lost and lost again

And no one knows where the night is going ...

One by the guests arrive
The guests are coming through
The broken-hearted many
The open-hearted few

And no one knows where the night is going ...
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Sun 15 Feb, 2004 10:29 pm
Winter Lady
Trav'ling lady, stay awhile
until the night is over.
I'm just a station on your way,
I know I'm not your lover.
Well I lived with a child of snow
when I was a soldier,
and I fought every man for her
until the nights grew colder.

She used to wear her hair like you
except when she was sleeping,
and then she'd weave it on a loom
of smoke and gold and breathing.

And why are you so quiet now
standing there in the doorway?
You chose your journey long before
you came upon this highway.

Trav'ling lady stay awhile
until the night is over.
I'm just a station on your way,
I know I'm not your lover.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
0 Replies
 
dyslexia
 
  1  
Reply Sun 15 Feb, 2004 10:32 pm
It's true that all the men you knew were dealers
who said they were through with dealing
Every time you gave them shelter
I know that kind of man
It's hard to hold the hand of anyone
who is reaching for the sky just to surrender.
And then sweeping up the jokers that he left behind
you find he did not leave you very much
not even laughter
Like any dealer he was watching for the card
that is so high and wild
he'll never need to deal another
He was just some Joseph looking for a manger
He was just some Joseph looking for a manger.
And then leaning on your window sill
he'll say one day you caused his will
to weaken with your love and warmth and shelter
And then taking from his wallet
an old schedule of trains, he'll say
I told you when I came I was a stranger
I told you when I came I was a stranger.
But now another stranger seems to want you to ignore his dreams
as though they were the burden of some other
O you've seen that man before
his golden arm dispatching cards
but now it's rusted from the elbow to the finger
And he wants to trade the game he plays for shelter
Yes he wants to trade the game he knows for shelter.
You hate to watch another tired man
lay down his hand
like he was giving up the holy game of poker
And while he talks his dreams to sleep
you notice there's a highway
that is curling up like smoke above his shoulder
It's curling up like smoke above his shoulder.
You tell him to come in sit down
but something makes you turn around
The door is open you can't close you shelter
You try the handle of the road
It opens do not be afraid
It's you my love, you who are the stranger
It is you my love, you who are the stranger.
Well, I've been waiting, I was sure
we'd meet between the trains we're waiting for
I think it's time to board another
Please understand, I never had a secret chart
to get me to the heart of this
or any other matter
Well he talks like this
you don't know what he's after
When he speaks like this,
you don't know what he's after.
Let's meet tomorrow if you chose
upon the shore, beneath the bridge
that they are building on some endless river
Then he leaves the platform
for the sleeping car that's warm
You realize, he's only advertising one more shelter
And it comes to you, he never was a stranger
And you say ok the bridge or someplace later.
And then sweeping up the jokers
that he left behind
you find he did not leave you very much
not even laughter
Like any dealer he was watching for the card
that is so high and wild
he'll never need to deal another
He was just some Joseph looking for a manger
He was just some Joseph looking for a manger.
And leaning on your window sill
he'll say one day you caused his will
to weaken with your love and warmth and shelter
And then taking from his wallet
an old schedule of trains
he'll say I told you when I came I was a stranger
I told you when I came I was a stranger.
0 Replies
 
Adrian
 
  1  
Reply Mon 16 Feb, 2004 07:16 pm
The Future.

Give me back my broken night
My mirrored room,
My secret life
Its lonely here,
There's no one
Left to torture
Give me absolute control
Over every living soul
And lie beside me, baby,
Thats an order!

Give me crack and anal sex
Take the only tree thats left
And stuff it up the hole
In your culture
Give me back the Berlin wall
Give me Stalin and St Paul
Ive seen the future, brother:
It is murder

Things are going to slide,
Slide in all directions
Wont be nothing
Nothing you can measure
Anymore
The blizzard,
The blizzard of the world
Has crossed the threshold
And it has overturned
The order of the soul
When they said REPENT REPENT
I wonder what they meant
When they said REPENT REPENT
I wonder what they meant
When they said REPENT REPENT
I wonder what they meant

You dont know me from the wind
You never will, you never did
Im the little jew
Who wrote the Bible
Ive seen the nations
Rise and fall
Ive heard their stories,
Heard them all
But loves the only engine
Of survival
Your servant here,
He has been told
To say it clear,
To say it cold:
Its over, it aint going
Any further
And now the wheels
Of heaven stop
You feel the devils riding crop
Get ready for the future:
It is murder

Things are going to slide ...

There'll be the breaking
Of the ancient
Western code
Your private life
Will suddenly explode
Therell be phantoms
Therell be fires on the road
And the white man dancing
Youll see a woman
Hanging upside down
Her features
Covered by her fallen gown
And all the lousy little poets
Coming round
Tryin to sound like
Charlie Manson
And the white man dancin

Give me back the Berlin wall
Give me Stalin and St Paul
Give me Christ
Or give me Hiroshima
Destroy another fetus now
We dont like children anyhow
Ive seen the future, baby:
It is murder

Things are going to slide ...

When they said Repent Repent ...
0 Replies
 
OCCOM BILL
 
  1  
Reply Mon 16 Feb, 2004 07:29 pm
Waiting for the Miracle-

Baby, I've been waiting,
I've been waiting night and day.
I didn't see the time,
I waited half my life away.
There were lots of invitations
and I know you sent me some,
but I was waiting
for the miracle, for the miracle to come.
I know you really loved me.
but, you see, my hands were tied.
I know it must have hurt you,
it must have hurt your pride
to have to stand beneath my window
with your bugle and your drum,
and me I'm up there waiting
for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

Ah I don't believe you'd like it,
You wouldn't like it here.
There ain't no entertainment
and the judgements are severe.
The Maestro says it's Mozart
but it sounds like bubble gum
when you're waiting
for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

Waiting for the miracle
There's nothing left to do.
I haven't been this happy
since the end of World War II.

Nothing left to do
when you know that you've been taken.
Nothing left to do
when you're begging for a crumb
Nothing left to do
when you've got to go on waiting
waiting for the miracle to come.

I dreamed about you, baby.
It was just the other night.
Most of you was naked
Ah but some of you was light.
The sands of time were falling
from your fingers and your thumb,
and you were waiting
for the miracle, for the miracle to come

Ah baby, let's get married,
we've been alone too long.
Let's be alone together.
Let's see if we're that strong.
Yeah let's do something crazy,
something absolutely wrong
while we're waiting
for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

Nothing left to do ...

When you've fallen on the highway
and you're lying in the rain,
and they ask you how you're doing
of course you'll say you can't complain --
If you're squeezed for information,
that's when you've got to play it dumb:
You just say you're out there waiting
for the miracle, for the miracle to come.
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Mon 16 Feb, 2004 09:30 pm
UN Canadien Errant (The Lost Canadian)
(by Antoine Gerin-Lajoie)
Un Canadien Errant [A wandering Canadian,]
Banni de ses foyers, [banned from his hearths,]
Parcourait en pleurant [travelled while crying]
Des pays etrangers. [in foreign lands.]
Parcourait en pleurant [travelled while crying]
Des pays etrangers. [in foreign lands.]
Un jour, triste et pensif, [One day, sad and pensive,]
Assis au bord des flots, [sitting by the flowing waters,]
Au courant fugitif [to the fleeing current]
Il adressa ces mots: [he addressed these words:]
Au courant fugitif [to the fleeing current]
Il adressa ces mots: [he addressed these words:]

"Si tu vois mon pays, [If you see my country,]
Mon pays malheureux, [my unhappy country,]
Va dire a mes amis [go tell my friends]
Que je me souviens d'eux. [that I remember them.]
Va dire a mes amis [go tell my friends]
Que je me souviens d'eux. [that I remember them.]

O jours si pleins d'appas, [O days so full of charms,]
Vous etes disparus... [you have vanished...]
Et ma patrie, helas! [And my native land, alas!]
Je ne la verrai plus. [I will see it no more.]
Et ma patrie, helas! [And my native land, alas!]
Je ne la verrai plus. [I will see it no more. ]
0 Replies
 
dyslexia
 
  1  
Reply Mon 16 Feb, 2004 09:35 pm
They sentenced me to twenty years of boredom
For trying to change the system from within
I'm coming now, I'm coming to reward them
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin
I'm guided by a signal in the heavens
I'm guided by this birthmark on my skin
I'm guided by the beauty of our weapons
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin
I'd really like to live beside you, baby
I love your body and your spirit and your clothes
But you see that line there moving through the station?
I told you, I told you, told you, I was one of those

Ah you loved me as a loser, but now you're worried that I just might win
You know the way to stop me, but you don't have the discipline
How many nights I prayed for this, to let my work begin
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin

I don't like your fashion business mister
And I don't like these drugs that keep you thin
I don't like what happened to my sister
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin

I'd really like to live beside you, baby ...

And I thank you for those items that you sent me
The monkey and the plywood violin
I practiced every night, now I'm ready
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin

I am guided

Ah remember me, I used to live for music
Remember me, I brought your groceries in
Well it's Father's Day and everybody's wounded
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Wed 18 Feb, 2004 07:06 pm
The Traitor

Now the Swan it floated on the English river
Ah the Rose of High Romance it opened wide
A sun tanned woman yearned me through the summer
and the judges watched us from the other side
I told my mother "Mother I must leave you
preserve my room but do not shed a tear
Should rumour of a shabby ending reach you
it was half my fault and half the atmosphere"

But the Rose I sickened with a scarlet fever
and the Swan I tempted with a sense of shame
She said at last I was her finest lover
and if she withered I would be to blame

The judges said you missed it by a fraction
rise up and brace your troops for the attack
Ah the dreamers ride against the men of action
Oh see the men of action falling back

But I lingered on her thighs a fatal moment
I kissed her lips as though I thirsted still
My falsity had stung me like a hornet
The poison sank and it paralysed my will

I could not move to warn all the younger soldiers
that they had been deserted from above
So on battlefields from here to Barcelona
I'm listed with the enemies of love

And long ago she said "I must be leaving,
Ah but keep my body here to lie upon
You can move it up and down and when I'm sleeping
Run some wire through that Rose and wind the Swan"

So daily I renew my idle duty
I touch her here and there -- I know my place
I kiss her open mouth and I praise her beauty
and people call me traitor to my face
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Sun 3 Oct, 2004 09:52 am
NEWS IN BRIEF



Where is he?
Leonard Cohen left the Zen Center of Mount Baldy in Spring 1999. He had been living at the Center for several years as Zen monk Jikan. Many poems on The Blackening Pages were written on Mount Baldy. Now Cohen lives and works in Los Angeles.



Next Album
Leonard Cohen's new album Dear Heather will be released world-wide on October 25/26, 2004.



Next tour
Cohen is not making any plans for another tour or concerts.


Next book
Leonard Cohen has also been working on a new book titled Book of Longing, a collection of previously unpublished poems and drawings, many of them written and drawn on Mount Baldy and India.



TV and Radio
Cohen Special on CKUT Radio Montreal (available for two months)
A tribute to one of Montreal's favorite sons, poet/novelist/singer-songwriter Leonard Cohen, on the occasion of his 70th birthday (September 21). Special guests will include Judy Collins, who has just released a CD of the Leonard Cohen songs (including three new recordings) that she has sung since introducing the world to "Suzanne" in 1966, and Perla Batalla, who sang on concert tours and recordings with Leonard before embarking on her acclaimed solo career. We'll hear songs from Judy's new CD and we'll have the world premiere of Perla's new CD of Leonard Cohen songs (to be released in 2005). We'll hear versions of Leonard's songs by other several other artists, including an exclusive, unreleased recording by Tom Russell. And, of course, we'll hear some of Leonard's own recordings. The program will be available on-line for two months! Here is a direct link to the stream. If it does not work, go first to the archive and select Thursday September 23 and the time 9-11.30 am.



Leonard Cohen Events and Gatherings around the world
No news right now!

http://www.leonardcohenfiles.com/
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Sun 3 Oct, 2004 02:40 pm
Who BY Fire

And who by fire, who by water,
who in the sunshine, who in the night time,
who by high ordeal, who by common trial,
who in your merry merry month of may,
who by very slow decay,
and who shall I say is calling?

And who in her lonely slip, who by barbiturate,
who in these realms of love, who by something blunt,
and who by avalanche, who by powder,
who for his greed, who for his hunger,
and who shall I say is calling?

And who by brave assent, who by accident,
who in solitude, who in this mirror,
who by his lady's command, who by his own hand,
who in mortal chains, who in power,
and who shall I say is calling?
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Sun 3 Oct, 2004 03:30 pm
where, where, where is my Gypsy wife tonight
I've heard all the wild reports, they can't be right
But whose head is this she's dancing with on the threshing floor
whose darkness deepens in her arms a little more
And where, where is my Gypsy wife tonight
Where, where is my Gypsy wife tonight

Ah the silver knives are flashing in the tired old cafe
A ghost climbs on the table in a bridal negligee
She says, 'My body is the light, my body is the way'
I raise my arm against it all and I catch the bride's bouquet

And where, where is my Gypsy wife tonight...

Too early for the rainbow, too early for the dove
These are the final days, this is the darkness, this is the flood
And there is no man or woman who can't be touched
But you who come between them will be judged

And where, where is my Gypsy wife tonight...
0 Replies
 
cobalt
 
  1  
Reply Tue 5 Oct, 2004 11:28 pm
Thanks edgarblythe - for the memories...
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Wed 6 Oct, 2004 06:11 am
Hi, cobalt. Cohen is still very active, still one to watch (and listen to).
0 Replies
 
fbaezer
 
  1  
Reply Wed 20 Oct, 2004 01:01 pm
Is this the right time to start singing this song again?:

Democracy

It's coming through a hole in the air,
from those nights in Tiananmen Square.
It's coming from the feel
that this ain't exactly real,
or it's real, but it ain't exactly there.
From the wars against disorder,
from the sirens night and day,
from the fires of the homeless,
from the ashes of the gay:
Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

It's coming through a crack in the wall;
on a visionary flood of alcohol;
from the staggering account
of the Sermon on the Mount
which I don't pretend to understand at all.
It's coming from the silence
on the dock of the bay,
from the brave, the bold, the battered
heart of Chevrolet:
Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

It's coming from the sorrow in the street,
the holy places where the races meet;
from the homicidal bitchin'
that goes down in every kitchen
to determine who will serve and who will eat.
From the wells of disappointment
where the women kneel to pray
for the grace of God in the desert here
and the desert far away:
Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

Sail on, sail on
O mighty Ship of State!
To the Shores of Need
Past the Reefs of Greed
Through the Squalls of Hate
Sail on, sail on, sail on, sail on.

It's coming to America first,
the cradle of the best and of the worst.
It's here they got the range
and the machinery for change
and it's here they got the spiritual thirst.
It's here the family's broken
and it's here the lonely say
that the heart has got to open
in a fundamental way:
Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

It's coming from the women and the men.
O baby, we'll be making love again.
We'll be going down so deep
the river's going to weep,
and the mountain's going to shout Amen!
It's coming like the tidal flood
beneath the lunar sway,
imperial, mysterious,
in amorous array:
Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

Sail on, sail on ...

I'm sentimental, if you know what I mean
I love the country but I can't stand the scene.
And I'm neither left or right
I'm just staying home tonight,
getting lost in that hopeless little screen.
But I'm stubborn as those garbage bags
that Time cannot decay,
I'm junk but I'm still holding up
this little wild bouquet:
Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

Leonard Cohen
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Wed 20 Oct, 2004 05:50 pm
The Story of Isaac

The door it opened slowly,
my father he came in,
I was nine years old.
And he stood so tall above me,
his blue eyes they were shining
and his voice was very cold.
He said, 'I've had a vision
and you know I'm strong and holy,
I must do what I've been told.'
So he started up the mountain,
I was running, he was walking,
and his axe was made of gold.
Well, the trees they got much smaller,
the lake a lady's mirror,
we stopped to drink some wine.
Then he threw the bottle over.
Broke a minute later
and he put his hand on mine.
Thought I saw an eagle
but it might have been a vulture,
I never could decide.
Then my father built an altar,
he looked once behind his shoulder,
he knew I would not hide.

You who build these altars now
to sacrifice these children,
you must not do it anymore.
A scheme is not a vision
and you never have been tempted
by a demon or a god.
You who stand above them now,
your hatchets blunt and bloody,
you were not there before,
when I lay upon a mountain
and my father's hand was trembling
with the beauty of the word.

And if you call me brother now,
forgive me if I inquire,
'Just according to whose plan'
When it all comes down to dust
I will kill you if I must,
I will help you if I can.
When it all comes down to dust
I will help you if I must,
I will kill you if I can.
And mercy on our uniform,
man of peace or man of war,
the peacock spreads his fan.
0 Replies
 
Peace and Love
 
  1  
Reply Mon 25 Oct, 2004 05:36 pm
edgar, thanks so much for the link.... I'm listening to the radio show.... it's wonderful!!!

I've added the "Judy Collins Sings Leonard Cohen" CD to my wish list....

PaL
:-)
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Mon 25 Oct, 2004 06:00 pm
Ah we're drinking and we're dancing
and the band is really happening
and the Johnny Walker wisdom running high
And my very sweet companion
she's the Angel of Compassion
she's rubbing half the world against her thigh
And every drinker every dancer
lifts a happy face to thank her
the fiddler fiddles something so sublime
all the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
and it's partner found, it's partner lost
and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops:
it's CLOSING TIME

Yeah the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
and it's partner found, it's partner lost
and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops:
it's CLOSING TIME

Ah we're lonely, we're romantic
and the cider's laced with acid
and the Holy Spirit's crying, Where's the beef?
And the moon is swimming naked
and the summer night is fragrant
with a mighty expectation of relief
So we struggle and we stagger
down the snakes and up the ladder
to the tower where the blessed hours chime
and I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
the Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
but CLOSING TIME

I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
the Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
CLOSING TIME

I loved you for your beauty
but that doesn't make a fool of me:
you were in it for your beauty too
and I loved you for your body
there's a voice that sounds like God to me
declaring, declaring, declaring that your body's really you
And I loved you when our love was blessed
and I love you now there's nothing left
but sorrow and a sense of overtime
and I missed you since the place got wrecked
And I just don't care what happens next
looks like freedom but it feels like death
it's something in between, I guess
it's CLOSING TIME

Yeah I missed you since the place got wrecked
By the winds of change and the weeds of sex
looks like freedom but it feels like death
it's something in between, I guess
it's CLOSING TIME

Yeah we're drinking and we're dancing
but there's nothing really happening
and the place is dead as Heaven on a Saturday night
And my very close companion
gets me fumbling gets me laughing
she's a hundred but she's wearing
something tight
and I lift my glass to the Awful Truth
which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth
except to say it isn't worth a dime
And the whole damn place goes crazy twice
and it's once for the devil and once for Christ
but the Boss don't like these dizzy heights
we're busted in the blinding lights,
busted in the blinding lights
of CLOSING TIME

The whole damn place goes crazy twice
and it's once for the devil and once for Christ
but the Boss don't like these dizzy heights
we're busted in the blinding lights,
busted in the blinding lights
of CLOSING TIME

Oh the women tear their blouses off the men they dance on the polka-dots
It's CLOSING TIME
And it's partner found, it's partner lost
and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops
It's CLOSING TIME
I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
It's CLOSING TIME
The Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
But CLOSING TIME
I loved you when our love was blessed
I love you now there's nothing left
But CLOSING TIME
I miss you since the place got wrecked
By the winds of change and the weeds of sex.
0 Replies
 
timberlandko
 
  1  
Reply Mon 25 Oct, 2004 07:00 pm
Joan of Arc
La la la la la la...

Now the flames they followed Joan of Arc
As she came riding through the dark;
No moon to keep her armour bright,
And no man to get her through this dark, this very smoky night.

She said, I'm tired of the war,
I want the kind of work I had before,
With a wedding dress, something white
To wear upon swollen appetite.

La la la la la la...

Well I'm glad to..., to hear you talk this way,
You see I've watched you riding almost every single day
And there's something in me just yearns to win
Such a very cold and such a very lonesome heroine.

Well then, who are you? she sternly spoke
To the one beneath the smoke.
Why, I'm..., I'm fire, he replied,
And I love your solitude, oh how I love your sense of pride.

La la la la la la...
Well then fire, make your body cold,
I'm gonna give you mine to hold,
Saying this she climbed inside
To be his one, to be his only bride.

It was deep into his fiery heart
He took the dust of our Joan of Arc,
And high above all of these assembled wedding guests
He hung the ashes of her very lovely wedding dress.

La la la la la la...

It was deep deep into his fiery heart
He took the dust of our precious Joan of Arc,
Then she clearly, she clearly understood
If..., if he was fire, woah she must be wood.

I saw her wince, I saw her cry,
Saw the glory in her eye.
Myself I long..., I long for love and light,
But must it come so cruel, and must it..., must it be so very bright?

La la la la la la...


and another ...

There Is A War

There is a war between the rich and poor,
a war between the man and the woman.
There is a war between the ones who say there is a war
and the ones who say there isn't.
Why don't you come on back to the war, that's right, get in it,
why don't you come on back to the war, it's just beginning.

Well I live here with a woman and a child,
the situation makes me kind of nervous.
Yes, I rise up from her arms, she says 'I guess you call this love';
I call it service.

Why don't you come on back to the war, don't be a tourist,
why don't you come on back to the war, before it hurts us,
why don't you come on back to the war, let's all get nervous.

You cannot stand what I've become,
you much prefer the gentleman I was before.
I was so easy to defeat, I was so easy to control,
I didn't even know there was a war.

Why don't you come on back to the war, don't be embarrassed,
why don't you come on back to the war, you can still get married.

There is a war between the rich and poor,
a war between the man and the woman.
There is a war between the left and right,
a war between the black and white,
a war between the odd and the even.

Why don't you come on back to the war, pick up your tiny burden,
why don't you come on back to the war, let's all get even,
why don't you come on back to the war, can't you hear me speaking


http://www.serve.com/cpage/LCohen/art/cohenpro.gif

I'd read some of Cohen's poetry before I first heard him sing. It was in a dark, smoky cellar club, in the winter of '68. He wore Levis, and a suede-elbowed tweed sports jacket over a thickly ribbed deep grey turtleneck. A piano, an upright base viol, a saxophone, a sultry backup singer of faintly Eurasian appearance and distinctly French-Canadian accent who doubled on the tamborine formed the group. The voice was exactly as I'd imagined it would be ... his sound was smokey and whiskey-soaked, wistful and wondering, comforting and questioning at once, and he spoke to me as I had thought no one could. He opened with Bird on a Wire, which he said was a new song, from an album due out tin the spring, and by the first chorus, the chatter and clatter of the club had died. He sang from a tall stool, and smoked between songs, and chatted a bit, sipping from a glass of un-iced dark amber liquid. I don't remember what all the songs of that set were, but I remember everyone LISTENED. He closed with Suzanne. The stage lights dimmed, went dark, you could hear your partner breath. Seconds went by, it seemed like many, but prolly wasn't, then a slow, rhythmic clapping began to punctuate the silence, swelling quickly to as much of an uproar as 70 or 80 folks could produce. The stage lights came up once more, the group taking up their places. Cohen, now coatless, stepped back to the stool, looking very much as though he had not expected to be called on for an encore. He politely thanked the smallish, once again thoroughly attentive audience, and sang The Stranger Song. The audience wanted more when he finished, but the headline act was paid for and ready to play. I don't remember who they were, or what they played. I bought Songs of Leonard Cohen the next morning, and have collected every recording and book I have been able to find since. I've seen him perform a few more times, and have always been more than satisfied, but you never forget your first. I've never seen Edit Piaff perform live, but I imagine it would have been much the same.

Thanks, Leonard.

Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien.
0 Replies
 
 

Related Topics

Rockhead's Music Thread - Discussion by Rockhead
What are you listening to right now? - Discussion by Craven de Kere
WA2K Radio is now on the air - Discussion by Letty
Just another music thread. - Discussion by msolga
Classical anyone? - Discussion by JPB
Ship Ahoy: The O'Jays - Discussion by edgarblythe
Evolutionary purpose of music. - Discussion by jackattack
An a2k experiment: What is our favorite song? - Discussion by Robert Gentel
THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED . . . - Discussion by Setanta
Has a Song Ever Made You Cry? - Discussion by Diest TKO
 
Copyright © 2021 MadLab, LLC :: Terms of Service :: Privacy Policy :: Page generated in 0.05 seconds on 09/28/2021 at 05:28:47