Dress Rehearsal Rag Songtext
von Leonard Cohen

It′s called "Dress rehearsal rag"

I got up sometime in the afternoon and I didn't feel like much
I said to myself, "Where are you golden boy
Where′s your famous golden touch?"
I thought you knew where all of the elephants lie down
I thought you were the crown prince of all the wheels in Ivory Town

Look at your body now, there's nothing much to save
And a bitter voice in the mirror cries, "Hey prince, you need a shave"
Now if you can manage to get your trembling fingers to behave
Why don't you try unwrapping a stainless steel razor blade?

That′s right, it′s come to this
Yes, it's come to this
And wasn′t it a long way down?
And wasn't it a strange way down?

There′s no hot water and the cold is running thin
Well, what do you expect from the kind of places that you've been living in?
Don′t drink from that cup, it's all caked and cracked along the rim
That's not the electric light, my friend, that is your vision that is dim


Cover up your face with soap there, now you′re Santa Claus
And you′ve got a gift for anyone who will give you his applause
I thought that you were a racing man, but you couldn't take the pace
That′s a funeral in the mirror and it's stopping at your face

That′s right, it's come to this
Yes, it′s come to this
And wasn't it a long way down?
And wasn't it a strange way down?

Once there was a path and a girl with chestnut hair
And you passed the summers picking all of the berries that grew there
There were times she was a woman, there were times she was a child
As you held her in the shadows where the raspberries grow wild

And you climbed on the highest mountains and you sang about the view
And everywhere that you wandered love went along with you
That′s a hard one to remember, it makes you clench your fist
And then the veins stand out like highways, all along your wrist

And then you know it′s come to this
Yes, it's come to this
And wasn′t it a long way down?
And wasn't it a strange way down?


You can still find a job, go out and talk to a friend
On the back of every magazine there are those coupons you can send
Why don′t you join the Rosicrucians, they will give you back your hope
You can find your love with diagrams in a plain brown envelope

But you've used up all your coupons, yes, except the one that seems
To be tattooed on to your arm along with several thousand dreams
Now Santa Claus comes forward, that′s a razor in his mit
And he puts on his dark glasses and he shows you where to hit

And then the cameras pan
The stand in stunt man's dress rehearsal rag
It's the dress rehearsal rag