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