21-October-2016

Berkeley, California

While running errands, I heard the end of an interview – Terry Gross (NPR) and Leonard Cohen.

I used to be your favorite drunk, good for one more laugh.   Then we both ran out of luck.   And luck was all we had.   You put on a uniform to fight the Civil War. I tried to join, but no one liked the side I’m fighting for.

So let’s drink to when it’s over.   And let’s drink to when we meet. I’ll be waiting on this corner where there used to be a street.

It wasn’t all that easy when you up and walked away. But I’ll leave that little story for another rainy day.

I know your burden’s heavy as you wheel it through the night. The guru says it’s empty. But that doesn’t mean it’s light.

So let’s drink to when it’s over. And let’s drink to when we meet. I’ll be standing on this corner where there used to be a street.

You left me with the dishes and a baby in the bath.

And you’re tight with the militias and you wear their camouflage.

Well, I guess that makes us equal.

But I want to march with you, just an extra in the sequel to the old red, white and blue.

So let’s drink to when it’s over. And let’s drink to when we meet. I’ll be waiting on this corner, where there used to be a street.

It’s going to be September now for many years to come – many hearts adjusting to that strict September drum.

I see the ghost of culture with numbers on his wrist, salute some new conclusion that all of us have missed.

So let’s drink to when it’s over. And let’s drink to when we meet. I’ll be waiting on this corner, where there used to be a street.

[ Source: http://www.npr.org/2016/10/21/498810429/leonard-cohen-on-poetry-music-and-why-he-left-the-zen-monastery ]