Leonard Cohen, Suzanne
Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river.
You can hear the boats go by,
You can spend the night beside her.
And you know she’s half crazy,
But that’s why you want to be there.
And she feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China.
And just when you mean to tell her that you have no love to give her,
Then she gets you on her wavelength
And she lets the river answer
That you’ve always been her lover.
And you want to travel with her,
And you want to travel blind,
And you know she will trust you,
For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind.
And Jesus was a sailor, when he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching from his lonely wooden tower.
And when he knew for certain, only drowning men could see him,
He said: “All men will be sailors then, until the sea shall free them.”
But he himself was broken
Long before the sky would open,
Foresaken, almost human,
He sank beneath your wisdom, like a stone
And you want to travel with him
And you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you’ll trust him
For he’s touched your perfect body with his mind.
Now Suzanne takes your hand and she leads you to the river.
She’s wearing rags and feathers from Salvation Army counters.
And the sun pours down like honey on our Lady of the Harbor.
And she shows you where to look, among the garbage and the flowers.
There are heros in the seaweed,
There are children in the morning,
They are leaning out for love,
They will lean that way forever,
While Suzanne holds the mirror.
And you want to travel with her,
And you want to travel blind,
And you know you can trust her
For she’s touched your perfect body with her mind.