✹ About Sunday 23 July 1665 Clark Kent on 24 Jul 2018 • Link The Stranger, by Leonard Cohen It's true that all the men you knew were dealerswho said they were through with dealingEvery time you gave them shelterI know that kind of manIt's hard to hold the hand of anyonewho is reaching for the sky just to surrender,who is reaching for the sky just to surrender.And then sweeping up the jokers that he left behindyou find he did not leave you very muchnot even laughterLike any dealer he was watching for the cardthat is so high and wildhe'll never need to deal anotherHe was just some Joseph looking for a mangerHe was just some Joseph looking for a manger And then leaning on your window sillhe'll say one day you caused his willto weaken with your love and warmth and shelterAnd then taking from his walletan old schedule of trains, he'll sayI told you when I came I was a strangerI told you when I came I was a stranger. But now another stranger seemsto want you to ignore his dreamsas though they were the burden of some otherO you've seen that man beforehis golden arm dispatching cardsbut now it's rusted from the elbows to the fingerAnd he wants to trade the game he plays for shelterYes he wants to trade the game he knows for shelter. Ah you hate to see another tired manlay down his handlike he was giving up the holy game of pokerAnd while he talks his dreams to sleepyou notice there's a highwaythat is curling up like smoke above his shoulder.It is curling just like smoke above his shoulder. You tell him to come in sit downbut something makes you turn aroundThe door is open you can't close your shelterYou try the handle of the roadIt opens do not be afraidIt's you my love, you who are the strangerIt's you my love, you who are the stranger. Well, I've been waiting, I was surewe'd meet between the trains we're waiting forI think it's time to board anotherPlease understand, I never had a secret chartto get me to the heart of thisor any other matterWhen he talks like thisyou don't know what he's afterWhen he speaks like this,you don't know what he's after. Let's meet tomorrow if you chooseupon the shore, beneath the bridgethat they are building on some endless riverThen he leaves the platformfor the sleeping car that's warmYou realize, he's only advertising one more shelterAnd it comes to you, he never was a strangerAnd you say ok the bridge or someplace later. And then sweeping up the jokers that he left behind ... And leaning on your window sill ... I told you when I came I was a stranger.