Four o'clock in the afternoon and I didn't feel like very much.
I said to myself,
"Where are you golden boy, where is your famous golden touch?"
Once there was a path and a girl with chestnut hair,
and you passed the summers picking all of the berries that grew there;
were times she was a woman,
oh, there were times she was just a child,
and you held her in the shadows where the raspberries grow wild.
And you climbed the twilight mountains and you sang about the view,
and everywhere that you wandered love seemed to go along with you.
That's a hard one to remember, yes it makes you clench your fist.
And then the veins stand out like highways, all along your wrist.
And yes it's come to this, it's come to this,
and wasn't it a long way down, wasn't it a strange way down? *
*"Dress Rehearsal Rag", Leonad cohen, 1966
