Friday, November 11, 2016

Leonard Norman Cohen, 21 September 1934 – 10 November 2016

"All the rocket ships are climbing through the sky 
The holy books are open wide 
The doctors working day and night 
But they'll never ever find that cure for love 
There ain't no drink no drug 
(Ah tell them, angels) 
There's nothing pure enough to be a cure for love "

"Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin 
                    Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in 
                   Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove 
                                     Dance me to the end of love"

No comments: