|
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 house deep in the desert |
|
Are you living for nothing now? |
|
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 when 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 |
|
But she never turned up I'm Lily Marlene |
|
And you treated some woman to a flake of your life |
|
And when she got home 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, oh, what can I tell you |
|
What can I possibly say? |
|
I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you |
|
I'm glad that you stood in my way |
|
And if you ever come by here |
|
Be it for Jane or for me |
|
I want you to know your enemy's sleeping |
|
I want you to know 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 really tried |
|
And Jane came by with a lock of your hair |
|
She said that you gave it to her |
|
That night when you planned to go clear |
|
Sincerely, a friend |
