Recorded by : Leonard Cohen; Fairport Convention.
So we're drinking and we're dancing and the bards are really happening
And the Johnny Walker wisdom's running high,
And my very sweet companion, she's an angel of compassion,
She's rubbing half the world against her thigh.
And every drinker, every dancer lifts a happy face to thank her
And the fiddler fiddles something so sublime
And the women tear their blouses off
And the men they dance on the polka dots
And it's partner found and partner lost
And it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops.
At Closing Time.
Well, we're lonely, we're romantic and the cider's spiked with mushrooms
And the Holy Spirit's crying, "Where's the beef?"
And the moon is spinning naked and the summer night is fragrant
With the mighty expectation of relief.
So we struggle and we stagger down the snakes and up the ladders
To the tower where the blessed hours chime.
And I swear it happened just like this:
A sigh, a cry, and a hungry kiss.
The gates of love they budged an inch
And I can't say much has happened since
But Closing Time.
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 that your body's really you.
Well I loved you when our love was blessed
And I love you know 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:
It' Closing Time.
So 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 hot and gets me laughing.
She's a hundred but she's wearing something tight.
And I lift my glass to the awful truth that 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 for the Christ,
But the boss don't like those dizzy heights, we're busted in the blinding lights
Of Closing Time.