Sunday, March 13, 2011
Hallelujah?
K.D. Lang has the voice of an angel. Here she is performing a Leonard Cohen song called Hallelujah.
I heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
You don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing hallelujah
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew hallelujah
Baby, I've been here before,
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor,
I used to live alone before i knew you
But I saw your flag on the marble arch,
Our love is not a victory march,
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
Maybe there's a God above,
But all I've ever learned from love,
Is how to shoot somebody who outdrew you,
It's not a cry that you hear at night,
It's not someone who's seen the light,
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
No More
I can't look at any more news stories about Japan. Today the New York Times online had pictures from readers in Japan. Yokohama (where I went on a date with Kazu-san to see the Nippon Maru and to eat niku-man on the streets in Chinatown) is split down the middle. Other pictures are from Tokyo, in a Tokyu Hands (where I used to shop) people are crouched on the floor, instructed by staff to stay there until the earthquake is over. In Shibuya station (where I used to meet friends to go drinking), thousands wait for the trains that have been reduced to 30% capacity. A group of schoolchildren huddle around their teachers in Tokyo Tower, near the spot where Chie-san and I waited in line to ride the elevator to the top so we could watch the sun set over Mt. Fuji. There are photos of convenience stores with shelves stripped bare by frightened, hungry people trapped in the city. There's a picture of Ginza (where I used to work) the streets crowded with people who fled the buildings during the quake.
I look at the country where I used to live and work and which I still love and I think about the people there who allowed me in and became my friends and my heart aches for the troubles they have now.
Google is collecting money that goes directly to the Japanese Red Cross Society. I give, but I still feel sad and helpless.
I heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
You don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing hallelujah
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew hallelujah
Baby, I've been here before,
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor,
I used to live alone before i knew you
But I saw your flag on the marble arch,
Our love is not a victory march,
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
Maybe there's a God above,
But all I've ever learned from love,
Is how to shoot somebody who outdrew you,
It's not a cry that you hear at night,
It's not someone who's seen the light,
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
No More
I can't look at any more news stories about Japan. Today the New York Times online had pictures from readers in Japan. Yokohama (where I went on a date with Kazu-san to see the Nippon Maru and to eat niku-man on the streets in Chinatown) is split down the middle. Other pictures are from Tokyo, in a Tokyu Hands (where I used to shop) people are crouched on the floor, instructed by staff to stay there until the earthquake is over. In Shibuya station (where I used to meet friends to go drinking), thousands wait for the trains that have been reduced to 30% capacity. A group of schoolchildren huddle around their teachers in Tokyo Tower, near the spot where Chie-san and I waited in line to ride the elevator to the top so we could watch the sun set over Mt. Fuji. There are photos of convenience stores with shelves stripped bare by frightened, hungry people trapped in the city. There's a picture of Ginza (where I used to work) the streets crowded with people who fled the buildings during the quake.
I look at the country where I used to live and work and which I still love and I think about the people there who allowed me in and became my friends and my heart aches for the troubles they have now.
Google is collecting money that goes directly to the Japanese Red Cross Society. I give, but I still feel sad and helpless.
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