The Lyrics of Leonard Cohen: Enhanced Edition

Nobody cares if the people Live or die.

  And the dealer wants you thinking

  That it’s either black or white.

  Thank G-d it’s not that simple

  In My Secret Life.

  I bite my lip.

  I buy what I’m told:

  From the latest hit,

  To the wisdom of old.

  But I’m always alone.

  And my heart is like ice.

  And it’s crowded and cold

  In My Secret Life.

  Co-written by Sharon Robinson, this song was included on Ten New Songs (2001, though Cohen had begun work on it (under the title ‘My Secret Life’ as early as 1988). The final phrase – “it’s crowded and cold in my secret life” – is an intriguing observation by an artist who has lived in and reported on both the social world and solitude.

  Iodine

  I needed you, I knew I was in danger

  of losing what I used to think was mine

  You let me love you till I was a failure,

  You let me love you till I was a failure --

  Your beauty on my bruise like iodine

  I asked you if a man could be forgiven

  And though I failed at love, was this a crime?

  You said, Don’t worry, don’t worry, darling

  You said, Don’t worry, don’t you worry, darling

  There are many ways a man can serve his time

  You covered up that place I could not master

  It wasn’t dark enough to shut my eyes

  So I was with you, O sweet compassion

  Yes I was with you, O sweet compassion

  Compassion with the sting of iodine

  Your saintly kisses reeked of iodine

  Your fragrance with a fume of iodine

  And pity in the room like iodine

  Your sister fingers burned like iodine

  And all my wanton lust was iodine

  My masquerade of trust was iodine

  And everywhere the flare of iodine

  Cohen played an earlier version of this song, co-written by John Lissauer, on his 1975 tour, when it was title ‘Guerrero’. It was completely rewritten for its inclusion on Death Of A Ladies’ Man (1977).

  Is This What You Wanted

  You were the promise at dawn,

  I was the morning after.

  You were Jesus Christ my Lord,

  I was the money lender.

  You were the sensitive woman,

  I was the very reverend Freud.

  You were the manual orgasm,

  I was the dirty little boy.

  And is this what you wanted

  to live in a house that is haunted

  by the ghost of you and me?

  Is this what you wanted ...

  You were Marlon Brando,

  I was Steve McQueen.

  You were K.Y. Jelly,

  I was Vaseline.

  You were the father of modern medicine,

  I was Mr. Clean.

  You where the whore and the beast of Babylon,

  I was Rin Tin Tin.

  And is this what you wanted ...

  And is this what you wanted ...

  You got old and wrinkled,

  I stayed seventeen.

  You lusted after so many,

  I lay here with one.

  You defied your solitude,

  I came through alone.

  You said you could never love me,

  I undid your gown.

  And is this what you wanted ...

  And is this what you wanted ...

  I mean is this what you wanted ...

  That’s right, is this what you wanted ...

  Based on ‘Poem # 31’ from The Energy Of Slaves, this song was included on New Skin For The Old Ceremony (1974). Though its structure is simple, the song exemplifies a technique Cohen has frequently used – a series of different examples or images of a basic motif, in this case the “you were … I was …” formula.

  It Just Feels

  It feels so good

  And it feels so right

  It feels like I’ve been rescued

  In the middle of the night

  And all the tricks and all the angels

  And all the dirty rotten deals

  They don’t count now

  They’ve been cancelled

  And it feels, it just feels

  Thank you Babe, thank you Babe

  It feels so good

  And it feels so right

  It feels like I’ve been rescued

  In the middle of the night

  And the sweetest voice has spoken

  And the deepest wound is healed

  And the darkness is exploding

  And it feels, it just feels

  Thank you Babe, thank you Babe

  It comes so sweet

  And it comes so fast

  It comes like windows breaking

  I can take a breath at last

  Thank you for the breaking

  And thank you for the breath

  And for sayin’ it was nothing

  Nothing meaning life or death

  Thank you Babe…it just feels

  Written by Cohen and David A Stewart, Cohen himself has never recorded it. It was recorded by Sylvie Marechal and included on her album Voie Lactée (1992).

  Jazz Police

  Can you tell me why the bells are ringing?

  Nothing’s happened in a million years

  I’ve been sitting here since Wednesday morning

  Wednesday morning can’t believe my ears

  Jazz police are looking through my folders

  Jazz police are talking to my niece

  Jazz police have got their final orders

  Jazzer, drop your axe, it’s Jazz police!

  Jesus taken serious by the many

  Jesus taken joyous by a few

  Jazz police are paid by J.P. Getty

  Jazzers paid by J. Paul Getty II

  Jazz police I hear you calling

  Jazz police I feel so blue

  Jazz police I think I’m falling,

  I’m falling for you

  Wild as any freedom loving racist

  I applaud the actions of the chief

  Tell me now oh beautiful and spacious

  Am I in trouble with the Jazz police?

  Jazz police are looking through my folders ...

  They will never understand our culture

  They’ll never understand the Jazz police

  Jazz police are working for my mother

  Blood is thicker margarine than grease

  Let me be somebody I admire

  Let me be that muscle down the street

  Stick another turtle on the fire

  Guys like me are mad for turtle meat

  Jazz police I hear you calling

  Jazz police I feel so blue

  Jazz police I think I’m falling,

  I’m falling for you

  Co-written by Jeff Fisher, this song’s origins lie in artistic arguments between Cohen and his musicians during the recording of I’m Your Man. The band would try to infiltrate augmented fifths and sevenths into the music, at which Cohen would object that he didn’t want that kind of jazzy sound on his songs. Teased for being a “jazz policeman”, he decided to incorporate their banter into a song. J. Paul Getty I (1892-1976) was an American industrialist, reputedly the richest living American in 1957. His son, J. Paul Getty II (1932-2003), was a philanthropist, book collector and cricket lover.

  Joan Of Arc

  Now the flames they followed Joan of Arc

  as she came riding through the dark;

  no moon to keep her armour bright,

  no man to get her through this very smoky night.

  She said, “I’m tired of the war,

  I want the kind of work I had before,

  a wedding dress or something white

  to wear upon my swollen appetite.”

  Well, I’m glad to hear you t
alk this way,

  you know I’ve watched you riding every day

  and something in me yearns to win

  such a cold and lonesome heroine.

  “And who are you?” she sternly spoke

  to the one beneath the smoke.

  “Why, I’m fire,” he replied,

  “And I love your solitude, I love your pride.”

  “Then fire, make your body cold,

  I’m going to give you mine to hold,”

  saying this she climbed inside

  to be his one, to be his only bride.

  And deep into his fiery heart

  he took the dust of Joan of Arc,

  and high above the wedding guests

  he hung the ashes of her wedding dress.

  It was deep into his fiery heart

  he took the dust of Joan of Arc,

  and then she clearly understood

  if he was fire, oh then she must be wood.

  I saw her wince, I saw her cry,

  I saw the glory in her eye.

  Myself I long for love and light,

  but must it come so cruel, and oh so bright?

  Included on Songs Of Love And Hate (1971) and also on Live In Concert (1994). The live version, co-sung with Julie Christensen, is particularly interesting in that it elucidates more clearly than when Cohen sings it alone the different voices in the song. Following the live version, on can see that the first stanza has two voices (the Narrator and Joan herself), the second three (Narrator, Joan and Fire), and the third two (Joan and Narrator). The fourth stanza, all of which Cohen sings on the live voice, is more complicated. Clearly, it is begun by the Narrator. However, the final four lines were italicized on the album’s sleevenotes, suggesting a fourth voice, whom we may call the Bystander and who delivers the song’s “lesson”.

  Lady Midnight

  I came by myself to a very crowded place;

  I was looking for someone who had lines in her face.

  I found her there but she was past all concern;

  I asked her to hold me, I said, “Lady, unfold me,”

  but she scorned me and she told me

  I was dead and I could never return.

  Well, I argued all night like so many have before,

  saying, “Whatever you give me, I seem to need

  so much more.”

  Then she pointed at me where I kneeled on her floor,

  she said, “Don’t try to use me or slyly refuse me,

  just win me or lose me,

  it is this that the darkness is for.”

  I cried, “Oh, Lady Midnight, I fear that you grow old,

  the stars eat your body and the wind makes you cold.”

  “If we cry now,” she said, “it will just be ignored.”

  So I walked through the morning, sweet early morning,

  I could hear my lady calling,

  “You’ve won me, you’ve won me, my lord,

  you’ve won me, you’ve won me, my lord,

  yes, you’ve won me, you’ve won me, my lord,

  ah, you’ve won me, you’ve won me, my lord,

  ah, you’ve won me, you’ve won me, my lord.”

  This deceptively simple song was included on Songs From A Room (1969). At first sight, it appears to be the simple record of a seduction. On closer reading, it is clearly much more complex than that. Who is Lady Midnight? Is she a real woman or a symbol? Does she represent “the dark night of the soul” or is she Death itself? And does the “sweet early morning” through which the singer walks signify a victory over the darkness or a surrender to it? Reader, judge for yourself.

  Last Year’s Man

  The rain falls down on last year’s man,

  that’s a jew’s harp on the table,

  that’s a crayon in his hand.

  And the corners of the blueprint are ruined since they rolled

  far past the stems of thumbtacks

  that still throw shadows on the wood.

  And the skylight is like skin for a drum I’ll never mend

  and all the rain falls down amen

  on the works of last year’s man.

  I met a lady, she was playing with her soldiers in the dark

  oh one by one she had to tell them

  that her name was Joan of Arc.

  I was in that army, yes I stayed a little while;

  I want to thank you, Joan of Arc,

  for treating me so well.

  And though I wear a uniform I was not born to fight;

  all these wounded boys you lie beside,

  goodnight, my friends, goodnight.

  I came upon a wedding that old families had contrived;

  Bethlehem the bridegroom,

  Babylon the bride.

  Great Babylon was naked, oh she stood there trembling for me,

  and Bethlehem inflamed us both

  like the shy one at some orgy.

  And when we fell together all our flesh was like a veil

  that I had to draw aside to see

  the serpent eat its tail.

  Some women wait for Jesus, and some women wait for Cain

  so I hang upon my altar

  and I hoist my axe again.

  And I take the one who finds me back to where it all began

  when Jesus was the honeymoon

  and Cain was just the man.

  And we read from pleasant Bibles that are bound in

  blood and skin

  that the wilderness is gathering

  all its children back again.

  The rain falls down on last year’s man,

  an hour has gone by

  and he has not moved his hand.

  But everything will happen if he only gives the word;

  the lovers will rise up

  and the mountains touch the ground.

  But the skylight is like skin for a drum I’ll never mend

  and all the rain falls down amen

  on the works of last year’s man.

  Included on Songs Of Love And Hate (1971), this song is an example of a curious phenomenon that often occurs in Cohen’s work – the use of overtly religious phraseology and references (as here Bethlehem, Babylon, Jesus and Cain) in songs with a secular theme, and the avoidance of them in songs with a spiritual or religious theme.

  Leaving Green 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.

  This song, from New Skin For The Old Ceremony (1974), contains echoes, both in its melody and in the consciously archaic language with which it opens, of the famous sixteenth-century air ‘Greensleeves’, allegedly written by King Henry VIII and certainly written by a member of his court.

  Light As The Breeze

  She stands before you naked

  you can see it, you can taste it,

  and she comes to you light as the breeze.

&nbs
p; Now you can drink it or you can nurse it,

  it don’t matter how you worship

  as long as you’re

  down on your knees.

  So I knelt there at the delta,

  at the alpha and the omega,

  at the cradle of the river and the seas.

  And like a blessing come from heaven

  for something like a second

  I was healed and my heart

  was at ease.

  O baby I waited

  so long for your kiss

  for something to happen,

  oh something like this.

  And you’re weak and you’re harmless

  and you’re sleeping in your harness

  and the wind going wild

  in the trees,

  and it ain’t exactly prison

  but you’ll never be forgiven

  for whatever you’ve done

  with the keys.

  O baby I waited ...

  It’s dark now and it’s snowing

  O my love I must be going,

  The river has started to freeze.

  And I’m sick of pretending

  I’m broken from bending

  I’ve lived too long on my knees.

  Then she dances so graceful

  and your heart’s hard and hateful

  and she’s naked

  but that’s just a tease.

  And you turn in disgust

  from your hatred and from your love

  and she comes to you

  light as the breeze.

  O baby I waited ...

  There’s blood on every bracelet

  you can see it, you can taste it,

  and it’s Please baby

  please baby please.

  And she says, Drink deeply, pilgrim

  but don’t forget there’s still a woman

  beneath this

  resplendent chemise.

  So I knelt there at the delta,

  at the alpha and the omega,

  I knelt there like one who believes.

  And the blessings come from heaven

  and for something like a second

  I’m cured and my heart

  is at ease

  Included on The Future (1992). The St Lawrence River flows from the Great Lakes to the Atlantic, passing on its way to the south of Montreal Island.

  Love Calls You By Your Name

  You thought that it could never happen