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SongBook - Leonard Cohen



                               A Singer Must Die
                               Avalanche
                               Field Commander Cohen
                               Joan Of Arc
                               Leaving Green Sleeves
                               Love Calls You By Your Name
                               Master Song
                               Seems So Long Ago, Nancy
                               Sing Another Song, Boys
                               So Long, Marianne
                               Story Of Isaac
                               Suzanne
                               The Butcher
                               The Old Revolution
                               The Partisan
                               Who By Fire
                               Winter Lady





















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              Suzanne


                   Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river
                   You can hear the boats go by
                   You can spend the night beside her
                   And you know that she's half crazy
                   But that's why you want to be there
                   And she feeds you tea and oranges
                   That come all the way from China
                   And just when you mean to tell her
                   That you have no love to give her
                   Then she gets you on her wavelength
                   And she lets the river answer
                   That you've always been her lover
                   And you want to travel with her
                   And you want to travel blind
                   And you know that she will trust you
                   For you've touched her perfect body with your mind.

                   And Jesus was a sailor
                   When he walked upon the water
                   And he spent a long time watching
                   From his lonely wooden tower
                   And when he knew for certain
                   Only drowning men could see him
                   He said "All men will be sailors then
                   Until the sea shall free them"
                   But he himself was broken
                   Long before the sky would open
                   Forsaken, almost human
                   He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone
                   And you want to travel with him
                   And you want to travel blind
                   And you think maybe you'll trust him
                   For he's touched your perfect body with his mind.

                   Now Suzanne takes your hand
                   And she leads you to the river
                   She is wearing rags and feathers
                   From Salvation Army counters
                   And the sun pours down like honey
                   On our lady of the harbour
                   And she shows you where to look
                   Among the garbage and the flowers
                   There are heroes in the seaweed
                   There are children in the morning
                   They are leaning out for love
                   And they will lean that way forever
                   While Suzanne holds the mirror
                   And you want to travel with her
                   And you want to travel blind
                   And you know that you can trust her
                   For she's touched your perfect body with her mind.

                   "Songs Of Leonard Cohen" - 1967






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              Master Song


                   I believe that you heard your master sing
                    when I was sick in bed.
                   I suppose that he told you everything
                    that I keep locked away in my head.
                   Your master took you travelling,
                    well at least that's what you said.
                   And now do you come back to bring
                    your prisoner wine and bread?

                   You met him at some temple, where
                    they take your clothes at the door.
                   He was just a numberless man in a chair
                    who'd just come back from the war.
                   And you wrap up his tired face in your hair
                    and he hands you the apple core.
                   Then he touches your lips now so suddenly bare
                    of all the kisses we put on some time before.

                   And he gave you a German Shepherd to walk
                    with a collar of leather and nails,
                   and he never once made you explain or talk
                    about all of the little details,
                   such as who had a word and who had a rock,
                    and who had you through the mails.
                   Now your love is a secret all over the block,
                    and it never stops not even when your master fails.

                   And he took you up in his aeroplane,
                    which he flew without any hands,
                   and you cruised above the ribbons of rain
                    that drove the crowd from the stands.
                   Then he killed the lights in a lonely Lane
                    and, an ape with angel glands,
                   erased the final wisps of pain
                    with the music of rubber bands.

                   And now I hear your master sing,
                    you kneel for him to come.
                   His body is a golden string
                    that your body is hanging from.
                   His body is a golden string,
                    my body has grown numb.
                   Oh now you hear your master sing,
                    your shirt is all undone.

                   And will you kneel beside this bed
                    that we polished so long ago,
                   before your master chose instead
                    to make my bed of snow?
                   Your eyes are wild and your knuckles are red
                    and you're speaking far too low.
                   No I can't make out what your master said
                    before he made you go.

                   Then I think you're playing far too rough
                    for a lady who's been to the moon;
                   I've lain by this window long enough
                    to get used to an empty room.
                   And your love is some dust in an old man's cough
                    who is tapping his foot to a tune,
                   and your thighs are a ruin, you want too much,
                    let's say you came back some time too soon.

                   I loved your master perfectly
                    I taught him all that he knew.
                   He was starving in some deep mystery
                    like a man who is sure what is true.
                   And I sent you to him with my guarantee
                    I could teach him something new,
                   and I taught him how you would long for me
                    no matter what he said no matter what you'd do.

                   I believe that you heard your master sing
                    while I was sick in bed,
                   I'm sure that he told you everything
                    I must keep locked away in my head.
                   Your master took you travelling,
                    well at least that's what you said,
                   And now do you come back to bring
                    your prisoner wine and bread?

                   "Songs Of Leonard Cohen" - 1967






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              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.

                   "Songs Of Leonard Cohen" - 1967






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              So Long, Marianne


                   Come over to the window, my little darling,
                    I'd like to try to read your palm.
                   I used to think I was some kind of Gypsy boy
                    before I let you take me home.

                   Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began
                   to laugh and cry and cry and laugh about it all again.

                   Well you know that I love to live with you,
                    but you make me forget so very much.
                   I forget to pray for the angels
                    and then the angels forget to pray for us.

                   Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began...

                   We met when we were almost young
                    deep in the green lilac park.
                   You held on to me like I was a crucifix,
                    as we went kneeling through the dark.

                   Oh so long, Marianne, it's time that we began...

                   Your letters they all say that you're beside me now.
                    Then why do I feel alone?
                   I'm standing on a ledge and your fine spider web
                    is fastening my ankle to a stone.

                   Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began...

                   For now I need your hidden love.
                    I'm cold as a new razor blade.
                   You left when I told you I was curious,
                    I never said that I was brave.

                   Oh so long, Marianne, it's time that we began...

                   Oh, you are really such a pretty one.
                    I see you've gone and changed your name again.
                   And just when I climbed this whole mountainside,
                    to wash my eyelids in the rain!

                   Oh so long, Marianne, it's time that we began...

                   "Songs Of Leonard Cohen" - 1967






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              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.

                   "Songs From A Room" - 1969






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              The Partisan


                   When they poured across the border
                   I was cautioned to surrender,
                   this I could not do;
                   I took my gun and vanished.

                   I have changed my name so often,
                   I've lost my wife and children
                   but I have many friends,
                   and some of them are with me.

                   An old woman gave us shelter,
                   kept us hidden in the garret,
                   then the soldiers came;
                   she died without a whisper.

                   There were three of us this morning
                   I'm the only one this evening
                   but I must go on;
                   the frontiers are my prison.

                   Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing,
                   through the graves the wind is blowing,
                   freedom soon will come;
                   then we'll come from the shadows.

            Les Allemands e'taient chez moi,   [The Germans were at my home]
            ils me dirent, "Signe toi,"        [They said, "Sign yourself,"]
            mais je n'ai pas peur;             [But I am not afraid]
            j'ai repris mon arme.              [I have retaken my weapon.]

            J'ai change' cent fois de nom,     [I have changed names a hundred times]
            j'ai perdu femme et enfants        [I have lost wife and children]
            mais j'ai tant d'amis;             [But I have so many friends]
            j'ai la France entie`re.           [I have all of France]

            Un vieil homme dans un grenier     [An old man, in an attic]
            pour la nuit nous a cache',        [Hid us for the night]
            les Allemands l'ont pris;          [The Germans captured him]
            il est mort sans surprise.         [He died without surprise.]

                   Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing,
                   through the graves the wind is blowing,
                   freedom soon will come;
                   then we'll come from the shadows.

                   "Songs From A Room" - 1969






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              Seems So Long Ago, Nancy


                   It seems so long ago,
                   Nancy was alone,
                   looking ate the Late Late show
                   through a semi-precious stone.
                   In the House of Honesty
                   her father was on trial,
                   in the House of Mystery
                   there was no one at all,
                   there was no one at all.

                   It seems so long ago,
                   none of us were strong;
                   Nancy wore green stockings
                   and she slept with everyone.
                   She never said she'd wait for us
                   although she was alone,
                   I think she fell in love for us
                   in nineteen sixty one,
                   in nineteen sixty one.

                   It seems so long ago,
                   Nancy was alone,
                   a forty five beside her head,
                   an open telephone.
                   We told her she was beautiful,
                   we told her she was free
                   but none of us would meet her in
                   the House of Mystery,
                   the House of Mystery.

                   And now you look around you,
                   see her everywhere,
                   many use her body,
                   many comb her hair.
                   In the hollow of the night
                   when you are cold and numb
                   you hear her talking freely then,
                   she's happy that you've come,
                   she's happy that you've come.
                   
                   "Songs From A Room" - 1969






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              The Old Revolution


                   I finally broke into the prison,
                   I found my place in the chain.
                   Even damnation is poisoned with rainbows,
                   all the brave young men
                   they're waiting now to see a signal
                   which some killer will be lighting for pay.

                   Into this furnace I ask you now to venture,
                    you whom I cannot betray.

                   I fought in the old revolution
                   on the side of the ghost and the King.
                   Of course I was very young
                   and I thought that we were winning;
                   I can't pretend I still feel very much like singing
                   as they carry the bodies away.

                   Into this furnace I ask you now to venture,
                    you whom I cannot betray.

                   Lately you've started to stutter
                   as though you had nothing to say.
                   To all of my architects let me be traitor.
                   Now let me say I myself gave the order
                   to sleep and to search and to destroy.

                   Into this furnace I ask you now to venture,
                    you whom I cannot betray.

                   Yes, you who are broken by power,
                   you who are absent all day,
                   you who are kings for the sake of your children's story,
                   the hand of your beggar is burdened down with money,
                   the hand of your lover is clay.

                   Into this furnace I ask you now to venture,
                    you whom I cannot betray.

                   "Songs From A Room" - 1969






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              The Butcher


                   I came upon a butcher,
                   he was slaughtering a lamb,
                   I accused him there
                   with his tortured lamb.
                   He said, "Listen to me, child,
                   I am what I am
                   and you, you are my only son."

                   Well, I found a silver needle,
                   I put it into my arm.
                   It did some good,
                   did some harm.
                   But the nights were cold
                   and it almost kept me warm,
                   how come the night is long?

                   I saw some flowers growing up
                   where that lamb fell down;
                   was I supposed to praise my Lord,
                   make some kind of joyful sound?
                   He said, "Listen, listen to me now,
                   I go round and round
                   and you, you are my only child."

                   Do not leave me now,
                   do not leave me now,
                   I'm broken down
                   from a recent fall.
                   Blood upon my body
                   and ice upon my soul,
                   lead on, my son, it is your world.

                   "Songs From A Room" - 1969






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              Avalanche


                   Well I stepped into an avalanche,
                   it covered up my soul;
                   when I am not this hunchback that you see,
                   I sleep beneath the golden hill.
                   You who wish to conquer pain,
                   you must learn, learn to serve me well.

                   You strike my side by accident
                   as you go down for your gold.
                   The cripple here that you clothe and feed
                   is neither starved nor cold;
                   he does not ask for your company,
                   not at the centre, the centre of the world.

                   When I am on a pedestal,
                   you did not raise me there.
                   Your laws do not compel me
                   to kneel grotesque and bare.
                   I myself am the pedestal
                   for this ugly hump at which you stare.

                   You who wish to conquer pain,
                   you must learn what makes me kind;
                   the crumbs of love that you offer me,
                   they're the crumbs I've left behind.
                   Your pain is no credential here,
                   it's just the shadow, shadow of my wound.

                   I have begun to long for you,
                   I who have no greed;
                   I have begun to ask for you,
                   I who have no need.
                   You say you've gone away from me,
                   but I can feel you when you breathe.
                   
                   Do not dress in those rags for me,
                   I know you are not poor;
                   you don't love me quite so fiercely now
                   when you know that you are not sure,
                   it is your turn, beloved,
                   it is your flesh that I wear.

                   "Songs Of Love & Hate" - 1971






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              Love Calls You By Your Name


                   You thought that it could never happen
                   to all the people that you became,
                   your body lost in legend, the beast so very tame.
                   But here, right here,
                   between the birthmark and the stain,
                   between the ocean and your open vein,
                   between the snowman and the rain,
                   once again, once again,
                   love calls you by your name.

                   The women in your scrapbook
                   whom you still praise and blame,
                   you say they chained you to your fingernails
                   and you climb the halls of fame.
                   Oh but here, right here,
                   between the peanuts and the cage,
                   between the darkness and the stage,
                   between the hour and the age,
                   once again, once again,
                   love calls you by your name.

                   Shouldering your loneliness
                   like a gun that you will not learn to aim,
                   you stumble into this movie house,
                   then you climb, you climb into the frame.
                   Yes, and here, right here
                   between the moonlight and the lane,
                   between the tunnel and the train,
                   between the victim and his stain,
                   once again, once again,
                   love calls you by your name.
                   
                   I leave the lady meditating
                   on the very love which I, I do not wish to claim,
                   I journey down the hundred steps,
                   but the street is still the very same.
                   And here, right here,
                   between the dancer and his cane,
                   between the sailboat and the drain,
                   between the newsreel and your tiny pain,
                   once again, once again,
                   love calls you by your name.

                   Where are you, Judy, where are you, Anne?
                   Where are the paths your heroes came?
                   Wondering out loud as the bandage pulls away,
                   was I, was I only limping, was I really lame?
                   Oh here, come over here,
                   between the windmill and the grain,
                   between the sundial and the chain,
                   between the traitor and her pain,
                   once again, once again,
                   love calls you by your name.

                   You thought that it could never happen
                   to all the people that you became,
                   your body lost in legend, the beast so very tame.
                   But here, right here,
                   between the birthmark and the stain,
                   between the ocean and your open vein,
                   between the snowman and the rain,
                   once again, once again,
                   love calls you by your name.

                   The women in your scrapbook
                   whom you still praise and blame,
                   you say they chained you to your fingernails
                   and you climb the halls of fame.
                   Oh but here, right here,
                   between the peanuts and the cage,
                   between the darkness and the stage,
                   between the hour and the age,
                   once again, once again,
                   love calls you by your name.

                   Shouldering your loneliness
                   like a gun that you will not learn to aim,
                   you stumble into this movie house,
                   then you climb, you climb into the frame.
                   Yes, and here, right here
                   between the moonlight and the lane,
                   between the tunnel and the train,
                   between the victim and his stain,
                   once again, once again,
                   love calls you by your name.

                   I leave the lady meditating
                   on the very love which I, I do not wish to claim,
                   I journey down the hundred steps,
                   but the street is still the very same.
                   And here, right here,
                   between the dancer and his cane,
                   between the sailboat and the drain,
                   between the newsreel and your tiny pain,
                   once again, once again,
                   love calls you by your name.
                   
                   Where are you, Judy, where are you, Anne?
                   Where are the paths your heroes came?
                   Wondering out loud as the bandage pulls away,
                   was I, was I only limping, was I really lame?
                   Oh here, come over here,
                   between the windmill and the grain,
                   between the sundial and the chain,
                   between the traitor and her pain,
                   once again, once again,
                   love calls you by your name.

                   "Songs Of Love & Hate" - 1971






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              Sing Another Song, Boys


                   (Let's sing another song, boys, 
                   this one has grown old and bitter.)

                   Ah his fingernails, I see they're broken,
                    his ships they're all on fire.
                   The moneylender's lovely little daughter
                    ah, she's eaten, she's eaten with desire.
                   She spies him through the glasses
                    from the pawnshops of her wicked father.
                   She hails him with a microphone
                    that some poor singer, just like me, had to leave her.
                   She tempts him with a clarinet,
                    she waves a Nazi dagger.
                   She finds him lying in a heap;
                    she wants to be his woman.
                   He says, "Yes, I might go to sleep
                    but kindly leave, leave the future, leave it open."

                   He stands where it is steep,
                    oh I guess he thinks that he's the very first one,
                   his hand upon his leather belt now
                    like it was the wheel of some big ocean liner.
                   And she will learn to touch herself so well
                    as all the sails burn down like paper.
                   And he has lit the chain
                    of his famous cigarillo.
                   Ah, they'll never, they'll never ever reach the moon,
                    at least not the one that we're after;
                   it's floating broken on the open sea, look out there, my friends,
                    and it carries no survivors.
                   But lets leave these lovers wondering
                    why they cannot have each other,
                   and let's sing another song, boys,
                    this one has grown old and bitter.

                   "Songs Of Love & Hate" - 1971






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              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 talk 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?
                   
                   "Songs Of Love & Hate" - 1971






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              Field Commander Cohen


                   Field Commander Cohen, he was our most important spy.
                   Wounded in the line of duty,
                   parachuting acid into diplomatic cocktail parties,
                   urging Fidel Castro to abandon fields and castles.
                   Leave it all and like a man,
                   come back to nothing special,
                   such as waiting rooms and ticket lines,
                   silver bullet suicides,
                   and messianic ocean tides,
                   and racial roller-coaster rides
                   and other forms of boredom advertised as poetry.

                   I know you need your sleep now,
                   I know your life's been hard.
                   But many men are falling,
                   where you promised to stand guard.

                   I never asked but I heard you cast your lot along with the poor.
                   But then I overheard your prayer,
                   that you be this and nothing more
                   than just some grateful faithful woman's favourite 
                                                               singing millionaire,
                   the patron Saint of envy and the grocer of despair,
                   working for the Yankee Dollar.

                   I know you need your sleep now...

                   Ah, lover come and lie with me, if my lover is who you are,
                   and be your sweetest self awhile until I ask for more, my child.
                   Then let the other selves be wrong, yeah, let them manifest 
                                                                           and come
                   till every taste is on the tongue,
                   till love is pierced and love is hung,
                   and every kind of freedom done, then oh,
                   oh my love, oh my love, oh my love,
                   oh my love, oh my love, oh my love.

                   "New Skin For The Old Ceremony" - 1974






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              A Singer Must Die


                   Now the courtroom is quiet, but who will confess.
                   Is it true you betrayed us? The answer is Yes.
                   Then read me the list of the crimes that are mine,
                   I will ask for the mercy that you love to decline.
                   And all the ladies go moist, and the judge has no choice,
                   a singer must die for the lie in his voice.

                   And I thank you, I thank you for doing your duty,
                   you keepers of truth, you guardians of beauty.
                   Your vision is right, my vision is wrong,
                   I'm sorry for smudging the air with my song.

                   Oh, the night it is thick, my defences are hid
                   in the clothes of a woman I would like to forgive,
                   in the rings of her silk, in the hinge of her thighs,
                   where I have to go begging in beauty's disguise.
                   Oh goodnight, goodnight, my night after night,
                   my night after night, after night, after night, after night, 
                                                                 after night.

                   I am so afraid that I listen to you,
                   your sun glassed protectors they do that to you.
                   It's their ways to detain, their ways to disgrace,
                   their knee in your balls and their fist in your face.
                   Yes and long live the state by whoever it's made,
                   sir, I didn't see nothing, I was just getting home late.

                   "New Skin For The Old Ceremony" - 1974






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              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?
                   
                   "New Skin For The Old Ceremony" - 1974






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              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.

                   "New Skin For The Old Ceremony" - 1974



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