Leonard’s Got Bars

Everything you’re doing has already been done
They lied when they said there’s nothing new under the sun
Everything you’re doing has already been done
They lied when they said there’s nothing new

Passenger seat with my head out the window
Thirty five miles per hour
Best view of the city
And it’s looking like something from the future
From the bottom up
Best view of thе city
Cold smoking area, notably cool
Sipping overpriced drinks in my ovеrpriced shoes
Pink limo at the lights
Essex lads on the raz
All bants and that
Kebabs and chang [nang]
I’m pulling up a pew
Sitting out the fraff
Birdseye view on a citadel of ants
A horde of walking migraines limping like a skank
Or a troop of catalogue models skipping to the bank
Sticking to the plan
From the riches to the rags
To the Al Simmons living in an alley with the tramps
To the taking as we please when we're giving little back
To the future generations needs slipping through the cracks

Everything you’re doing has already been done
They lied when they said there’s nothing new under the sun
Everything you’re doing has already been done
They lied when they said there’s nothing new

On the night bus with my head against the window
And it’s raining outside
Best view of the city
It’s vibrating my head like a dildo
But I’m to lean to move it
Best view of the city
Flatscreen TV, notably large
Snorting overpriced drugs in an overpriced yard
Over enthusiastic
All fraff no heart
I’m telling some stranger how Leonard Cohen’s got bars
On some blah blah yippie yah yah yippie yay
With some foie gras yuppies living large sniffing yay
When we jump at any chance at any ticket to escape
From the sheer cost of living in the city we were raised in
A habitat we can’t afford to inhabit
Got the rat race feeling more like a forced marriage
Who’s truly happy?
Or Shooter McGavin?
Selling out for the gold jacket

Everything you’re doing has already been done
They lied when they said there’s nothing new under the sun
Everything you’re doing has already been done
They lied when they said there’s nothing new

So said the man with no jaw
Broke forth in a sprawl of colloquial folklore
He spoke in a drone that groaned like an oak floor
Then adorned with the roar of a rapturous applause
He toured shore to shore in a transatlantic tanker
Lived by the sword
Died by pancreatic cancer
Man it’s dumb
But if everything were doings been done
Then we might as well ruin it and have a little fun