Leonard Cohen, CC (born September 21, 1934 in Montreal, Quebec, Canada) is a poet, novelist, and singer-songwriter. His musical career has largely overshadowed his prior work as a poet and novelist, although he has continued to publish poetry sporadically after his breakthrough in the music industry. Musically, Cohen's early songs are based in folkmusic, in terms of both melody and instrumentation; from the 1970s, though, his work begins to show the influence of various types of popular and cabaretmusic. Since the 1980s he typically sings in a deep bass register, with synthesizers and female backing vocals. Cohen's songs are often emotionally heavy and lyrically complex, owing more to the metaphoric word play of poetry than to established conventions of songcraft.
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Death Of A Ladies’ Man Lyrics
Leonard Cohen
The man she wanted all her life was hanging by a thread
i never even knew how much I wanted you, she said
His muscles, they were numbered, and his style was obsolete
oh bay, I have come too late.
She knelt beside his feet
Ill never see a face like yours in years of men to come
Ill never see such arms again in wrestling or love.
And all his virtues burning in the smokey holocaust
She took unto herself most everything her lover lost
Now the master of this landscape, he was standing at the view
With a sparrow of st. francis that he was preaching to
She beckoned to the sentry of his high religious mood
She said, Ill make a place between my legs, Ill teach you solitude.
He offered her an orgy in a many mirrored room
He promiised her protection for the issue of her womb
She moved her body hard against a sharpened metal spoon
She stopped the bloody rituals of passage to the moon
She took his much admired oriental frame of mind
And the heart-of-darkness alibi his money hides behind
She took his blonde madonna and his monastery wine
this mental space is occupied and everything is mine.
He tried to make a final stand beside the railway track
She said, the art of longings over and its never coming back.
She took his tavern parliament, his cap, his cocky dance
She mocked his female fashions and his working-class moustache
The last time that I saw him he was trying hard to get
A womans education, but hes not a woman yet
And the last time that I saw her she was living with a boy
Who gives her soul an empty room and gives her body joy
So the great affair is over, but whoever would have guessed
It would leave us all so vacant and so deeply unimpressed
Its like our visit to the moon or to that other star
I guess you go for nothing if you really want to go that far