Sing another song, boys

Leonard Cohen

Let's sing another song boys, this one has grown old and bitter

All hi fingernails i see they're broken,
his ships they're all on fire,
the moneylender's lovely little daughter,
oh she's eaten, she's eaten with desire.
She spies him through the glasses
from the pawnshops of her wicked father.
She hails him with a microphone that some poor singer, just like me,
had to leave her.
She tempts him with a clarinet,
she waves her Nazi dagger.

She finds him lying in a heap,
she wants to be his woman.
He says: " yes i just may go to sleep,
but kindly leave, leave the future, leave it open".
He stands where it is steep,
oh i guess he thinks he's the very first one,
his hands upon her leather belt now
like it was the wheel of some big ocean liner.
And she will learn to touch her self so well
as all the sails burn down like paper.
And he has lit the chain
of his famous cigarillo.

Ah, they'll never, they'll never ever reach the moon,

at least not the one that they were after;

t's floating broken on the open sea, look out there, my friend,

and it carries no survivors.

But let's leave these lovers wondering

why they cannot have each other,

and let's sing another song, boys,

this one has grown old and bitter.