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| Leonard Cohen |
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| The Bus | ||||
| I was the last passenger of the day, I was alone on the bus, I was glad they were spending all that money just getting me up Eighth Avenue. Driver! I shouted, itīs you and me tonight, letīs run away from this big city to a smaller city more suitable to the heart, letīs drive past the swimming pools of Miami Beach, you in the driverīs seat, me several seats back, but in the racial cities weīll change places so as to show how well youīve done up North, and let us find ourselves some tiny American fishing village in unknown Florida and park right at the edge of the sand, a huge bus pointing out, metallic, painted, solitary, with New York plates. |
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