The birds they sang
at the break of day
Start again, I heard them say
Don’t dwell on what
has passed away
or what is yet to be.
The wars they will
be fought again
The holy dove,
be caught again
bought and sold
and bought again
the dove is never free.
Ring the bells that still can ring.
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack in everything.
That’s how the light gets in.
We asked for signs
the signs were sent
the birth betrayed,
the marriage spent
the widowhood
of every government—
signs for all to see.
Can’t run no more
with the lawless crowd
while the killers in high places
say their prayers out loud
But they’ve summoned up
a thundercloud,
and they’re going to hear from me.
Ring the bells that still can ring.
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack in everything.
That’s how the light gets in.
You can add up the parts
but you won’t have the sum
you can strike up the march,
there is no drum
Every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee.
Ring the bells that still can ring.
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack in everything.
That’s how the light gets in.
—Leonard Cohen, 1992
