The Lyrics of Leonard Cohen
Anyways – bit more on last night. Got to Hoxton and hooked up with Eliot and the boys. Stuffed our beaks on Thai throwaway. Top nosh – laughed our tits off when Wordsworth – bit of a twat – got a full on red chilli.
Fucking funny. He got us back though with a boring shit wank poem by – guess who…
A Wren’s Nest
AMONG the dwellings framed by birds
In field or forest with nice care,
Is none that with the little Wren’s
In snugness may compare.
No door the tenement requires,
And seldom needs a laboured roof;
Yet is it to the fiercest sun
Impervious, and storm-proof.
So warm, so beautiful withal,
In perfect fitness for its aim,
That to the Kind by special grace
Their instinct surely came.
And when for their abodes they seek
An opportune recess,
The hermit has no finer eye
For shadowy quietness……. blah blah blah blah blah
This is all you’re getting coz fuck me it went on and on and on – we were bored shitless. Called the Wren’s nest by Wordsworth – the real one. Who gives a fuck about Wrens?? Most boring arse birds on the planet. If you wanna read more you can – it’s here. I really wouldn’t bother though. What’s worse is he does all this drama shit when he does a Wordsworth. Sharp intakes of breath, long pauses, throwing his wings about – you know the kinda shit. Embarassing. Anyway, enough of that – I decided not to do another Brian Patten – although he fucking rocks – and went for something bit more leftroof. The lyrics of Leonard Cohen – top bloke. Really.
Twat though, I tried to sing this one – which is my fave – gave up halfway coz my voice is shitter than Cohens – which is saying something – and just read it – beautiful. Even Mart got this one.
Bird on The Wire
Like a bird on the wire,
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.
Like a worm on a hook,
Like a knight from some old fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee.
If i, if I have been unkind,
I hope that you can just let it go by.
If i, if I have been untrue
I hope you know it was never to you.
Like a baby, stillborn,
Like a beast with his horn
I have torn everyone who reached out for me.
But I swear by this song
And by all that I have done wrong
I will make it all up to thee.
I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch,
He said to me, you must not ask for so much.
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door,
She cried to me, hey, why not ask for more?
Oh like a bird on the wire,
Like a drunk in a midnight choirhave tried in my way to be free.
Fucking gorgeous. See – no need detail on the bird – just one – any old one – on a wire. Beautiful.
So – today gonna prob hang at Ali’s place in my office doin’ stuff. Mart cam along for the fly so might do some more pics later… the fucking sun’s shining for once – still bloody freezing though.