(Waiting For) The Grand Old Man Of Song

For Leonard Cohen

Waiting out the storm,

It's been pouring down all day;

The concert's on at four,

And the Green's so far away.

You forgot to book the bus,

So we're trudging through the mud,

But look up and see the sky reveal

All blue lit up with sun;

And the words of an elder,

They ring out clear and true

With stories of the street and of the land.

Songs of innocence and stories told

Of redemption, healing and of hearts made whole.

And here it doesn’t matter

Who was right and who was wrong;

We’re just waiting for the

Grand Old Man of Song.

Seven years they call an itch -

But it's an itch just to move on.

Old ties to unbind,

But some ties keep us strong.

There’s a necklace in a drawer

For the child that never was.

There’s a photo in a piano stool

Of a father gone too soon;

And those mid life dreams

I never dared to speak,

Bound by things I’d done so long ago.

It seems that all our choices, they leave a trail,

Of everything we tried and where we fail -

But here it doesn’t matter

What was right and what was wrong;

We’re just waiting for the

Grand Old Man of Song.

And as the dark comes,

And music fills the air,

The evening star illuminates the night;

And I remember

A crystal circle held our vows,

And I think of all the things that we did right.

Hallelujah,

I'm standing with you,

In a place outside of thoughts of right or wrong;

Now we’re standing in a field,

We're counting seven years,

And we’re waiting for the

Grand Old Man of Song.