Closing time

[Painting by Elizabeth Laishley]

Ah, we're drinking and we're dancing
And the band is really happening
And the Johnny Walker wisdom running high

And my very sweet companion
She's the angel of compassion
She's rubbing half the world against her thigh

And every drinker every dancer
Lifts a happy face to thank her
The fiddler fiddles something so sublime

All the women tear their blouses off
And the men they dance on the polka-dots
And it's partner found and it's partner lost
And it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops
It's closing time

Ah, we're lonely, we're romantic
And the cider's laced with acid
And the holy spirit's crying, where's the beef?

And the moon is swimming naked
And the summer night is fragrant
With a mighty expectation of relief

So we struggle and we stagger
Down the snakes and up the ladder
To the tower where the blessed hours chime

And I swear it happened just like this
A sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
The gates of love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
But closing time

And I loved you for your beauty
But that doesn't make a fool of me
You were in it for your beauty too

And I loved you for your body
There's a voice that sounds like God to me
Declaring, declaring,
declaring that your body's really you

And I loved you when our love was blessed
And I love you now there's nothing left
But sorrow and a sense of overtime

And I missed you since the place got wrecked
And I just don't care what happens next,
Looks like freedom but it feels like death
It's something in between, I guess
Its closing time

Yeah, I missed you since our place got wrecked
By the winds of change and the weeds of sex
And it looks like freedom but it feels like death
It's something in between, I guess
Its closing time

Yeah, we're drinking and we're dancing
But there's nothing really happening
And the place is dead as heaven on a Saturday night

And my very close companion
Gets me fumbling gets me laughing
She's a hundred but she's wearing something tight

And I lift my glass to the awful truth
Which you can't reveal to the ears of youth
Except to say it isn't worth a dime

And the whole damn place goes crazy twice
And it's once for the devil and it's once for Christ
But the boss don't like these dizzy heights
We're busted in the blinding lights
Of closing time

--- Leonard Cohen, The Future, 1997