Beautiful Losers (Fr. Leonard Cohen)

On a Sunday afternoon I watched a blind accordian player Doing a rendition of Hallelujah It echoed through the tunnels of the TTC* And reminded me of the days in Montreal Where we would travel on the Metro holding hands I wanted to dance like I did in those days How we would make love on a Sunday afternoon With Leonard Cohen blasting through our studio apartment And then go to that Delicatiessan where he smoked And drank coffee writing sonnets of love Thinking we were the beautiful losers he wrote about After, the blind musician was finished I realised I won't there in Montreal, but in Toronto And the accordian player had moved me to weep once again Son, I dropped a toonie* in his cup And told him Encore! Walking away with a hole in my heart And a tear in my eyes