Stories Of The Street Lyrics - Cohen Leonard

The stories of the street are mine 

The Spanish voices laugh 

The Cadillacs go creeping down 

Through the night and the poison gas 

I lean from mu window sill 

In this old hotel I chose. 

Yes, one hand on my suicide 

And one hand on the rose. 

I know you've heard it's over now 

And war must surely come, 

The cities they are broke in half 

And the middle men are gone. 

But let me ask you one more time 

O children of the dust, 

These hunters who are shrieking now 

Do they speak for us? 

And where do all these highways go 

Now that we are free? 

Why are the armies marching still 

That were coming home to me? 

O lady with your legs so fine 

O stranger at your wheel 

You are locked into your suffering 

And your pleasures are the seal. 

The age of lust is giving birth 

But both the parents ask the nurse 

To tell them fairy tales on both sides of the glass 

Now the infant with his cord 

is hauled in like a kite 

And one eye filled with blueprints 

One eye filled with night 

O come with me my little one 

And we will find that farm 

And grow us grass and apples there 

To keep all the animals warm 

And if by chance I wake at night 

And I ask you who I am 

O take me to the slaughter house 

I will wait there with the lamb. 

With one hand on a hexagram 

And one hand on a girl 

I balance on a wishing well 

That all men call the world 

We are so small between the stars 

So large against the sky 

And lost among the subway crowds 

I try to catch your eye.