Leonard Cohen "Stories Of The Street" Слова пісні

Stories Of The Street

The stories of the street are mine,The Spanish voices laugh.The Cadillacs go creeping nowThrough the night and the poison gas,And I lean from my window sillIn this old hotel I chose,Yes one hand on my suicide,One hand on the rose.

I know you've heard it's overNow and war must surely come,The cities they are broke in halfAnd the middle men are gone.But let me ask you one more time,O children of the dusk,All these hunters who are shrieking nowOh do they speak for us?

And where do all these highways go,Now that we are free?Why are the armies marching stillThat were coming home to me?O lady with your legs so fineO stranger at your wheel,You are locked into your sufferingAnd your pleasures are the seal.

The age of lust is giving birth,And both the parents askThe nurse to tell them fairy talesOn both sides of the glass.And now the infant with his cordIs hauled in like a kite,And one eye filled with blueprints,One eye filled with night.

O come with me my little one,We will find that farmAnd grow us grass and apples thereAnd keep all the animals warm.And if by chance I wake at nightAnd I ask you who I am,O take me to the slaughterhouse,I will wait there with the lamb.

With one hand on the hexagramAnd one hand on the girlI balance on a wishing wellThat all men call the world.We are so small between the stars,So large against the sky,And lost among the subway crowdsI try to catch your eye.