Tracks: 1 Happens to the Heart 4:33 2 Moving On 3:11 3 The Night of Santiago 4:15 4 Thanks for the Dance 4:13 5 It's Torn 2:57 6 The Goal 1:12 7 Puppets 2:39 8 The Hills 4:17 9 Listen to the Hummingbird 2:00

Happens to the Heart

Words by Leonard Cohen (his poem in The Flame)
Music by Adam Cohen

I was always working steady
But I never called it art
I got my shit together
Meeting Christ and reading Marx
It failed my little fire
But it's bright the dying spark
Go tell the young messiah
What happens to the heart

There's a mist of summer kisses
Where I tried to double-park
The rivalry was vicious
The women were in charge
It was nothing, it was business
But it left an ugly mark
I've come here to revisit
What happens to the heart

I was selling holy trinkets
I was dressing kind of sharp
Had a pussy in the kitchen
And a panther in the yard
In the prison of the gifted
I was friendly with the guards
So I never had to witness
What happens to the heart

I should have seen it coming
After all I knew the chart
Just to look at her was trouble
It was trouble from the start
Sure we played a stunning couple
But I never liked the part
It ain't pretty, it ain't subtle
What happens to the heart

Now the angel's got a fiddle
The devil's got a harp
Every soul is like a minnow
Every mind is like a shark
I've broken every window
But the house, the house is dark
I care but very little
What happens to the heart

Then I studied with this beggar
He was filthy, he was scarred
By the claws of many women
He had failed to disregard
No fable here no lesson
No singing meadowlark
Just a filthy beggar guessing
What happens to the heart

I was always working steady
But I never called it art
It was just some old convention
Like the horse before the cart
I had no trouble betting
On the flood, against the ark
You see, I knew about the ending
What happens to the heart

I was handy with a rifle
My father's .303
I fought for something final
Not the right to disagree

Moving On

Words by Leonard Cohen (his poem in The Flame)
Music by Adam Cohen and Patrick Leonard

I loved your face, I loved your hair
Your T-shirts and your eveningwear
As for the world, the job, the war
I ditched them all to love you more

And now you're gone, now you're gone
As if there ever was a you
Who broke the heart and made it new
Who's moving on, who's kidding who

I loved your moods, I loved the way
They threatened every single day
Your beauty ruled me, though I knew
'Twas more hormonal than the view

And now you're gone, now you're gone
As if there ever was a you
Queen of lilac, Queen of blue
Who's moving on, who's kidding who

I loved your face, I loved your hair
Your T-shirts and your eveningwear
As for the world, the job, the war
I ditched them all to love you more

And now you're gone, now you're gone
As if there ever was a you
Who held me dying, pulled me through
Who's moving on, who's kidding who

Who's moving on, who's kidding who

The Night of Santiago

Words by Leonard Cohen [his poem The Faithless Wife in Book of Longing,
after a poem by Federico Garcia Lorca],
Music by Adam Cohen

She said she was a maiden
That wasn't what I heard
For the sake of conversation
I took her at her word
The lights went out behind us
The fireflies undressed
The broken sidewalk ended
I touched her sleeping breasts
They opened to me urgently
Like lilies from the dead
Behind a fine embroidery
Her nipples rose like bread
Then I took off my necktie
And she took off her dress
My belt and pistol set aside
We tore away the rest

The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
So I took her to the river
As any man would do

Her thighs they slipped away from me
Like schools of startled fish
Though I've forgotten half my life
I still remember this
Now, as a man I won't repeat
The things she said aloud
Except for this, my lips are sealed forever
And for now
And soon there's sand in every kiss
And soon the dawn is ready
And soon the night surrenders
To a daffodil machete
I gave her something pretty
And I waited till she laughed
I wasn't born a gypsy
To make a woman sad

The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
I took her to the river
As any man would do
The night of Santiago

And I was passing through
I took her to the river
As any man would do
I didn't fall in love of course
It's never up to you
But she was walking back and forth
And I was passing through
When I took her to the river
In her virginal apparel
When I took her to the river
On that night of Santiago
And yes she lied about it all
Her children and her husband
You were born to judge the world
Forgive me but I wasn't

The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
I took her to the river
As any man would do

The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
I took her to the river
As any man would do

The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
So I took her to the river
As any man would do

The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
So I took her to the river
As any man would do

Thanks for the Dance

Words by Leonard Cohen (his poem in The Flame)
Music by Anjani Thomas (on her album Blue Alert

Thanks for the dance
I'm sorry you're tired
The evening has hardly begun
Thanks for the dance
Try to look inspired
One-two-three, one-two-three, one

There is a rose in your hair
Your shoulders are bare
You've been wearing this costume forever

So turn up the music
Pour out the wine
Stop at the surface
The surface is fine
We don't need to go any deeper

Thanks for the dance
I hear that we're married
One-two-three, one-two-three, one
Thanks for the dance
And the baby you carried
It was almost a daughter or a son

And there's nothing to do
But to wonder if you
Are as hopeless as me
And as decent

We're joined in the spirit
Joined at the hip
Joined in the panic
Wondering if
We've come to some sort
Of agreement

It was fine, it was fast
We were first, we were last
In line at the
Temple of Pleasure
But the green was so green
And the blue was so blue
I was so I
And you were so you
The crisis was light
As a feather

Thanks for the dance
It was hell, it was swell, it was fun
Thanks for all the dances
One-two-three, one-two-three, one

It's Torn

Words by Leonard Cohen
Music by Sharon Robinson

I see you in windows that open so wide
There's nothing beyond them and no one inside
You kick off your sandals and shake out your hair
The salt on your shoulders like sparks in the air
There's silt on your ankles and sand on your feet
The river too shallow, the ocean too deep
You smile at your suffering, the sweetest reprieve
Why did you leave us, why did you leave

You kick off your sandals and shake out your hair
It's torn where you're dancing it's torn everywhere

It's torn on the right and it's torn on the left
It's torn in the centre which few can accept

It's torn where there's beauty, it's torn where there's death
It's torn where there's mercy but torn somewhat less
It's torn in the highest from kingdom to crown
The messages fly but the network is down

Bruised at the shoulder and cut at the wrist
The sea rushes home to its thimble of mist
The opposites falter, the spirals reverse
And Eve must re-enter the sleep of her birth
And up through the system the worlds are withdrawn
From every dominion the mind stood upon
And now that you told her and now that it's done
The name has no number, not even the one

Come gather the pieces all scattered and lost
The lie in what's holy, the light in what's not
The story's been written the letter's been sealed
You gave me a lily but now it's a field

You kick off your sandals and shake out your hair
It's torn where you're dancing, it's torn everywhere

The Goal

Words by Leonard Cohen (his poem in Book of Longing),
Music by Adam Cohen

I can't leave my house
Or answer the phone
I'm going down again
But I'm not alone
Settling at last
Accounts of the soul
This for the trash
That paid in full
As for the fall, it
Began long ago
Can't stop the rain
Can't stop the snow
I sit in my chair
I look at the street
The neighbor returns
My smile of defeat
I move with the leaves
I shine with the chrome
I'm almost alive
I'm almost at home
No one to follow
And nothing to teach
Except that the goal
Falls short of the reach

The Puppets

Words by Leonard Cohen (his poem in Book of Longing)
Music by Adam Cohen

German puppets burnt the Jews
Jewish puppets did not choose
Puppet vultures eat the dead
Puppet corpses they are fed
Puppet winds and puppet waves
Puppet sailors in their graves
Puppet flower, puppet stem
Puppet time dismantles them
Puppet me and puppet you
Puppet German, puppet Jew

Puppet presidents command
Puppet troops to burn the land
Puppet fire, puppet flames
Feed on all the puppet names

Puppet lovers in their bliss
Turn away from all of this
Puppet reader shakes his head
Takes his puppet wife to bed
Puppet me and puppet you
Puppet German, puppet Jew

Puppet presidents command
Puppet troops to burn the land
Puppet fire, puppet flames
Feed on all the puppet names
Puppet night comes down to play
The after-act to puppet day

The Hills

Words by Leonard Cohen (his poem Book of Longing in Book of Longing)
Music bn Leonard Cohen

I can't make the hills
The system is shot
I'm living on pills
For which I thank G-d
My animal howls
My angel's upset
But I'm not allowed
A trace of regret
For someone will use
The thing I could not be
My heart will be hers
Impersonally
She'll step on the path
She'll see what I mean
My will cut in half
And freedom between
For this in a second
Our lives will collide
The endless suspended
The door opened wide

And she will be born
To someone like you

What I left undone
She will certainly do
I know she is coming
And I know she will look
And that is the longing
And this is the hook
I can't make the hills
The system is shot
I'm living on pills
For which I thank G-d
My page was too white
My ink was too thinned
The day wouldn't write
But the night penciled in
But I know she's coming
And I know she will look
That is the longing
This is the hook
(I know she is coming)
And I know she will look
(That is the longing)
And this is the hook

I can't make the hills
The system is shot
I'm living on pills
For which I thank G-d
I sailed like a swan
I sank like a rock
But time is long gone
Past my laughing stock
I can't make the hills
The system is shot
I'm living on pills
For which I thank G-d

Listen to the Hummingbird

Words by Leonard Cohen (his poem in The Flame)
Music by Adam Cohen

Listen to the hummingbird
Whose wings you cannot see
Listen to the hummingbird
Don't listen to me

Listen to the butterfly
Whose days but number three
Listen to the butterfly
Don't listen to me

Listen to the mind of G-d
Which doesn't need to be
Listen to the mind of G-d
Don't listen to me

Listen to the hummingbird
Whose wings you cannot see
Listen to the hummingbird
Don't listen to me