Famous Blue Raincoat Marissa Nadler

It's four in the morning, the end of December
And I'm writing you now just to see if you're better
New York is cold, but I like where I'm living
There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening

And I hear that you're building
Your little house deep in the desert
You're living for nothing
I hope you're keeping some kind of record

Yes and Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear

The last time I saw you, you looked so much older
Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder
You'd been to the station to meet every train
But you came home without Lili Marlene

And you treated my woman to a flake of your life
And when she came back, she was nobody's wife

Well, I see you there with a rose in your teeth
One more thin gypsy thief
Yes, I see Jane's awake