---

That winter was marked by our tellings of stories,
You passing out in the girls' dormitories --
Less for romance than for drama or glory,
We both knew but couldn't admit.

Old fashioned bells echoed out from the belfry,
Loving like Cohen couped up in The Chelsea.
Mostly unwise and, for certain, unhealthy,
But in far too deep to relent.

(Chorus)
I let you go, 'cause I knew that I had to.
Knew you'd always be too hard to hold onto.
I let you go and that's one thing I don't regret.

That winter was marked by your shutters that clattered,
Your self-proclaimed sainthood and bottles that shattered,
Staying up late trying to write things that mattered,
And not seeing much of success.

We'd go out walking. I'd sing, "Hallelujah."
You'd roll your eyes, slyly ask, "What's it to ya?"
I never answered, but thought I might fool ya
By smiling as if we'd been blessed.

(Chorus)
Then I let you go, 'cause I knew you'd go sometime.
Knew you'd always be too bitter to be mine.
I let you go, and that's one thing I don't regret.

That winter was marked by your chilly intentions,
Wishing too hard and a willing suspension
Of beliefs it's probably best not to mention
Considering that you never cared.

Now it's been years, and I'm still settling into
Singing for reasons less pure than I meant to.
Cohen died three days ago, and I missed you,
But just for a moment, I swear.

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