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作曲 : Leonard Cohen |
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作词 : Leonard Cohen |
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Let's sing another song, boys |
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This one has grown old and bitter |
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Ah, his fingernails, |
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I see they're broken |
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His ships, they're all on fire |
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The moneylender's lovely little daughter |
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Ah, she's eaten, she's eaten with desire |
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She spies him through the glasses |
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From the pawnshops of her wicked father |
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She hails him with a microphone |
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That some poor singer, just like me had to leave her |
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She tempts him with a clarinet |
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She waves a Nazi dagger |
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She finds him lying in a heap |
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She wants to be his woman |
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He says, "Yes, I just might go to sleep |
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But kindly leave, leave the future, leave it open" |
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He stands where it is steep |
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Oh, I guess he thinks that he's the very first one |
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His hands upon his leather belt now |
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Like it was the wheel of some big ocean liner |
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And she will learn to touch herself so well |
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As all the sails burn down like paper |
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And he has lit the chain |
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Of his famous cigarillo |
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Ah, they'll never, they'll never ever reach the moon |
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At least not the one that we're after |
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It's floating, broken on the open sea, look out there, my friends |
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And it carries no survivors |
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But let's leave these lovers wondering |
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Why they cannot have each other |
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And let's sing another song, boys |
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This one has grown old and bitter |
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（La La La La La La ...） |
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