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i had been planning to sing a cover of Leonard's brilliant "Famous Blue Raincoat" tune, but when the photo of Mr C stocking up on snacks at a local depaneur surfaced, this parody came pretty quickly… i must admit it was hard not cracking up while singing.. i call it "famous blue letter" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ksxES8XfJE

it's 4 in the morning, the end of September
you never replied to my famous blue letter
my belly is rumbling, my body is old
i listen for your footsteps, guitar strings are cold

i sit here alone with only echoes of your touch
smiles and warm memories, and my hunger is my crutch

and fame leaves only the rights to your name
and paparazzi on rue St Urbain
and still your hunger it remains… but can you refrain

the spotlights, the streetlights, my window, my stage
the creak of the stairs so slow at my age
i saw in your face Jane, both love and applause
my footsteps, your craving, our hunger was the cause

and rue Marie Anne had a glow, a puff in the shadows of your touch
alone with a flake of our laughter, now hunger again was our crutch

now i see… ahead, the lights and my craving cries heaven
salvation at a 7/11
Cheetoes, oh i say… pray put that camera away

my last few crumbs in my empty bag of irony
that crumples and lies by my side
i know that my treasures, and all of my pleasures
digest in my rhymes without pride

and thanks for the glimpse that you took with a smile
thought that you'd capture my style
sometimes it's enough for a while

and fame leaves only the rights to your name
some dude with a phone on St Urbain
and still your hunger it pains… it's all the same.

My 57th parody of a Leonard Cohen tune


Now the cops they followed Joan of Arc
as she went tripping through the park
she tried to keep her joint alight
she planned to have a very smoky night

She said "I'm tired of this score,
I want the kind of grass I had before
Lebanese Black or something white
to satisfy my swollen appetite"

Well, I'm glad to hear you talk this way,
you know I've watched you tripping every day
and something in me yearns to sin
and share your old but wholesome heroin.

"And who are you?", she sternly spoke
to the one beneath the smoke,
"Why, I'm your dealer", he replied "
And I love your attitude, I love your side".

"Then fire, this joint is getting cold,
I'm going to give you mine to hold"
saying this she climbed inside
and gradually her drugs became all fried.

And deep into his fiery trip
he lost the rest of his reality grip
and high above the wedding guests
he floated by in her lovely wedding dress.


It was deep into his fiery heart
he took the Angel Dust of Joan of Arc,
and then she clearly understood
he'd take it all, oh yes he would.


I saw her front, I saw her back
I saw her hide a lump of crack.
Myself, I long for speed and coke,
but must I fool, and oh, must I joke?

my 58th Parody of a Leonard Cohen song

There's a Bird On The Wire
shoot her, shoot her-
take my aim a little higher
time for Tweety to expire,
no more points as a Frequent Flyer

Late at night when I retire
woken by a drunk in a midnight choir
as he breathes out I set him on fire
if I said I'm sorry I'm a flaming liar

For the position that I took
I get an old-fashioned look
as I speak this pretend poetry.
But I ask, you be strong
the end, it won't be long
I have tried in my way to be twee.