I listened to Leonard Cohen alone, not with a party going on, maybe afterwards, when everyone had gone.
I always liked his tone, voice of a real man to me, the master of rhyme and rhythm, he cleared his eyes to see.
His faith never certain, but shaken, under threat, told the bare tale of his search, thought he would get there yet.
He sang of the bird on a wire, Suzanne and the river, and lifted us up with his hallelujah.
He removed the skin, shone light on the bone, told us what we hold within is figured out in stone.
Now he has left the stage, to raise his hat no more, he followed his angel to what lay beyond the door.
Hear his song begin, one that cannot cease, let rain water fill your tin, and drink it now in peace.