It's four in the morning, the end of December  I'm writing you now just to see if you're better  New York is cold, but I like where I'm living  There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening.  I hear that you're building your little house deep in the desert  You're living for nothing now, I hope you're keeping some kind of record.  Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair  She said that you gave it to her  That night that you planned to go clear  Did you ever go clear?  Ah, the last time we saw you you looked so much older  Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder  You'd been to the station to meet every train  And you came home without Lili Marlene  And you treated my woman to a flake of your life  And when she came back she was nobody's wife.  Well I see you there with the rose in your teeth  One more thin gypsy thief  Well I see Jane's awake --  She sends her regards.  And what can I tell you my brother, my killer  What can I possibly say?  I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you  I'm glad you stood in my way.  If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me  Your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free.  Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes  I thought it was there for good so I never tried.  And Jane came by with a lock of your hair  She said that you gave it to her  That night that you planned to go clear --  Sincerely, L. Cohen