Sing Another Song, Boys - Leonard Cohen

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

    Ah his fingernails, I see they're broken,
    his ships they're all on fire
    The moneylender's lovely little daughter
    ah, 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 a Nazi dagger
    She finds him lying in a heap;
    she wants to be his woman
    He says, "Yes, I might go to sleep
    but kindly leave, leave the future,
    leave it open."

    He stands where it is steep,
    oh I guess he thinks that he's the very first one,
    his hand upon his leather belt now
    like it was the wheel of some big ocean liner
    And she will learn to touch herself 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 we're after;
    it's floating broken on the open sea, look out there, my friends,
    and it carries no survivors
    But lets leave these lovers wondering
    why they cannot have each other,
    and let's sing another song, boys,
    this one has grown old and bitter

    Marco Giunco
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