Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Anjani
Anjani
Anjani
Anjani
Anjani
Anjani
Anjani
Anjani
Anjani
Anjani
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
If I took a pill
I'd feel you so much better
I'd write you a poem
That sounds like a letter
I'd kill someone mean
And I'd cut off his ear
And I'd send it to you
With “I wish you were here”
I'm trying to finish
My shabby career
With a white cigarette
And a curtain of beer
I begged you to come
I begged on the phone
How wrong can you get
I was better alone
I am trying to finish
My shabby career
With a little truth
In the now and here