Rosemary Standley | Bird On The Wire

C’est à cause de l’hiver et des stratagèmes qu’on use pour le passer : à cause de Leonard Cohen, qui manque, et de ce pour quoi il est présent, malgré tout, quelque part. À cause du baroque, et des voix perdues. À cause de Moriarty. À cause du hasard des rencontres et de la lumière qu’il fait, à seize heures quatre ce dimanche, à cause du temps qui reste, qui passe, qui bientôt ne sera plus.

Like a bird on the wire
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free
Like a worm on a hook
Like a knight from some old fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee
If I, if I have been unkind
I hope that you can just let it go by
If I, if I have been untrue
I hope you know it was never to you
Like a baby, stillborn
Like a beast with his horn
I have torn everyone who reached out for me
But I swear by this song
And by all that I have done wrong
I will make it all up to thee
I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch
He said to me, you must not ask for so much
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door
She cried to me, hey, why not ask for more ?
Oh like a bird on the wire
Like a drunk in a midnight choir have tried in my way to be free