Unmade Bed: Leonard Cohen 1973

I say sorry and thank you for the lines I steal and write on a scrap of paper
while you give me head on a unmade hotel bed
my limo waits in the street to take you wherever you want to go
New Hampshire I think you said when we met
I recall the show a night ago
some of the songs sounded better then others
like the records I make
that seem so much more important then they really are
and what a wonderful perk you turned out to be
I think
I need you
I don't need you
I need you
I don't need you
and all that jiving around
when you make your getaway
I'll be relieved
and down the road I might remember
your semi-gaped tooth smile
that against the odds
only enhances your perfect nose
and your tie-dyed peasant dress
you take off
and throw on the floor
put on to fetch cigarettes in the lobby
and take off and toss on a chair
and when you find a real man
and are raising two or three kids
you will always have my voice on record or cassette
I hope my songs make you laugh and smile and dance and cry your eyes out
in the middle of the night
I'll throw you a toast
or you can throw one at me
to the night we listened to the storm
when we were almost young
a long time ago
won't seem so long ago
when we think about it
forty years from now