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    The Lyrics of Leonard Cohen: Enhanced Edition

    Page 8
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      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.

      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.

      This song, included on Songs Of Love And Hate (1971), is a rewritten version of an earlier song entitled ‘Love Tries To Call You By Your Name.

      Love Itself

      The light came through the window,

      Straight from the sun above,

      And so inside my little room

      There plunged the rays of Love.

      In streams of light I clearly saw

      The dust you seldom see,

      Out of which the Nameless makes

      A Name for one like me.

      I’ll try to say a little more:

      Love went on and on

      Until it reached an open door –

      Then Love Itself

      Love Itself was gone.

      All busy in the sunlight

      The flecks did float and dance,

      And I was tumbled up with them

      In formless circumstance.

      I’ll try to say a little more:

      Love went on and on

      Until it reached an open door –

      Then Love Itself

      Love Itself was gone.

      Then I came back from where I’d been.

      My room, it looked the same –

      But there was nothing left between

      The Nameless and the Name.

      All busy in the sunlight

      The flecks did float and dance,

      And I was tumbled up with them

      In formless circumstance.

      I’ll try to say a little more:

      Love went on and on

      Until it reached an open door –

      Then Love itself,

      Love Itself was gone.

      Love Itself was gone.

      One of Ten New Songs (2001) co-written by Sharon Robinson. The “LW” to whom this song is dedicated is the American writer Leon Wieseltier.

      Lover Lover Lover

      I asked my father,

      I said, “Father change my name.”

      The one I’m using now it’s covered up

      with fear and filth and cowardice and shame.

      Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover,

      lover come back to me,

      yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover,

      lover come back to me.

      He said, “I locked you in this body,

      I meant it as a kind of trial.

      You can use it for a weapon,

      or to make some woman smile.”

      Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover,

      lover come back to me

      yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover,

      lover come back to me.

      “Then let me start again,” I cried,

      “please let me start again,

      I want a face that’s fair this time,

      I want a spirit that is calm.”

      Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover,

      lover come back to me

      yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover,

      lover come back to me.

      “I never never turned aside,” he said,

      “I never walked away.

      It was you who built the temple,

      it was you who covered up my face.”

      Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover,

      lover come back to me

      yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover,

      lover come back to me.

      And may the spirit of this song,

      may it rise up pure and free.

      May it be a shield for you,

      a shield against the enemy.

      Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover,

      lover come back to me

      yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover,

      lover come back to me.

      Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover,

      lover come back to me

      yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover,

      lover come back to me.

      This song, included on New Skin For The Old Ceremony (1974), was written in the Sinai desert during Cohen’s 1973 visit to Israel on the eve of the Yom Kippur War. He volunteered to help Israel in its anticipated forthcoming battle with Egypt and (in a rare example of an army deploying volunteers ina role for which they have prior expertise) was sent to entertain the troops gathered there to meet the overtly expressed threat from the Egyptian army. A live version was included on Field Commander Cohen – Tour Of 1979 (2001).

      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 worm 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 cuff

      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?

      Included on Songs Of Leonard Cohen (1967), this song is based on the poem ‘I Believe I Heard Your Master Sing’ from Parasites Of Heaven. Its theme – a philosophically complicated ménage a trois between the singer, his lover and her “master” – is one that Cohen had explored in his novel Beautiful Losers. It is interesting to note that, not long after writing this song, Cohen met his own “master”, the Buddhist Joshu Sasaki (known as Roshi) and is not known to have sung the song since.

      Memories

      Frankie Lane, he was singing ‘Jezebel’

      I pinned an Iron Cross to my lapel

      I walked up to the tallest and the blondest girl

      I said, Look, you don’t know me now but very soon you will

      So won’t you let me see

      I said “won’t you let me see”

      I said “won’t you let me see

      Your naked body?”

      Just dance me to the dark side of the gym

      Chances are I’ll let you do most anything

      I know you’re hungry, I can hear it in your voice

      And there are many parts of me to touch, you have your choice

      Ah but no you cannot see

      She said “no you cannot see”

      She said “no you cannot see

      My naked body”

      So We’re dancing close, the band is playing ‘Stardust’

      Balloons and paper streamers floating down on us

      She says, You’ve got a minute left to fall in love

      In solemn moments such as this I have put my trust

      And all my faith to see

      I said all my faith to see

      I said all my faith to see

      Her naked body

      Cohen’s tribute to Fifties Rock’n’Roll, this song was included on Death Of A Ladies’ Man (1977). A live version was included on Field Commander Cohen – Tour Of 1979 (2001). Frankie Laine (1913-2007) was an American singer with an eclectic range of styles – from crooning to rock to jazz – who had a million-selling hit with ‘Jezebel’ in 1951. ‘Stardust’ was a standard of the Great American Songbook, with music by Hoagy Carmichael and words by Mitchell Parish.

      Minute Prologue

      I’ve been listening

      to all the dissention.

      I’ve been listening

      to all the pain.

      And I feel that no matter

      what I do for you,

      it’s going to come back again.

      But I think that I can heal it,

      but I think that I can heal it,

      I’m a fool, but I think I can heal it

      with this song.

      Recorded live in 1972, ‘Minute Prologue’ (as in “sixty seconds” rather than “very small”, though the ambiguity serves a poetic purpose), was included on Cohen’s first live album Live Songs (1973). The recording is the only known occasion on which Cohen has sung this song.

      Morning Glory

      No words this time? No words. No, there are times when nothing can be done.

      Not this time. Is it censorship? Is it censorship? No, it’s evaporation. No, it’s

      evaporation. Is this leading somewhere? Yes. We’re going down the lane. Is this

      going somewhere? Into the garden. Into the backyard. We’re walking down the

      driveway. Are we moving towards.... We’re in the backyard. ...some transcen-

      dental moment? It’s almost light. That’s right. That’s it. Are we moving towards

      some transcendental moment? That’s right. That’s it. Do you think you’ll be able

      to pull it off? Yes. Do you think you can pull it off? Yes, it might happen. I’m all

      ears. I’m all ears. Oh the morning glory!

      Included on Dear Heather (2004), this “song” is recited rather than sung, hence its prosaic layout.

      Never Any Good

      I was never any good at loving you

      I was never any good at coming

      through for you

      You’re going to feel much better

      When you cut me loose forever

      I was never any good

      Never any good

      I was never any good at loving you

      I was dying when we met

      I bet my life on you

      But you called me and I folded

      like you knew I’d do

      You called my ace, my king, my bluff

      Okay, you win, enough’s enough

      I was never any good

      Never any good

      I was never any good at loving you

      I was pretty good at taking out

      the garbage

      Pretty good at holding up the wall

      Dealing with the fire and the earthquake

      But that don’t count

      That don’t count

      That don’t count for nothing much at all

      I was never any good at loving you

      I was just a tourist in your bed looking

      at the view

      But I can’t forget where my lips

      have been

      Those holy hills, that deep ravine

      I was never any good

      Never any good

      I was never any good at loving you

      I was pretty good at taking out the garbage

      Pretty good at holding up the wall

      I’m sorry for my crimes against

      the moonlight

      I didn’t think

      I didn’t think

      I didn’t think the moon would mind at all

      I was never any good at loving you

      At doing what a woman really wants

      a man to do

      You’re going to feel much better

      When you cut me loose forever

      I was never any good

      Never any good

      I was never any good at loving you

      Unreleased until included on More Best Of Leonard Cohen (1997), this song is an entertaining excursion to a familiar corner of the Cohen theme park. With all the confidence of a man who, having leant from his mistakes, can repeat them with precision, Cohen applies his considerable skill to seducing his beloved into leaving him. The card-playing imagery in the second stanza is a good example of
    Cohen’s literary skill – not only is the metaphor an effective one in itself but the ambiguity of “called” (matched a bet or telephoned/visited) and “folded” (declined a bet or crumpled) adds poetic value to the lyric.

      Night Comes On

      I went down to the place

      Where I knew she lay waiting

      Under the marble and the snow

      I said, Mother I’m frightened

      The thunder and the lightning

      I’ll never come through this alone

      She said, I’ll be with you

      My shawl wrapped around you

      My hand on your head when you go

      And the night came on

      It was very calm

      I wanted the night to go on and on

      But she said, Go back to the World

      We were fighting in Egypt

      When they signed this agreement

      That nobody else had to die

      There was this terrible sound

      And my father went down

      With a terrible wound in his side

      He said, Try to go on

      Take my books, take my gun

      Remember, my son, how they lied

      And the night comes on

      It’s very calm

      I’d like to pretend that my father was wrong

      But you don’t want to lie, not to the young

      We were locked in this kitchen

      I took to religion

      And I wondered how long she would stay

      I needed so much

      To have nothing to touch

      I’ve always been greedy that way

      But my son and my daughter

      Climbed out of the water

      Crying, Papa, you promised to play

      And they lead me away

      To the great surprise

      It’s Papa, don’t peek, Papa, cover your eyes

      And they hide, they hide in the World

      Now I look for her always

      I’m lost in this calling

      I’m tied to the threads of some prayer

      Saying, When will she summon me

      When will she come to me

      What must I do to prepare

      When she bends to my longing

      Like a willow, like a fountain

      She stands in the luminous air

      And the night comes on

      And it’s very calm

      I lie in her arms and says, When I’m gone

      I’ll be yours, yours for a song

      Now the crickets are singing

      The vesper bells ringing

      The cat’s curled asleep in his chair

      I’ll go down to Bill’s Bar

     


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