Leonard Cohen
The Priest of Broken Hallelujahs
I sing of cracks where the light comes through.
Born in Montreal to a house of prayers and loss, I’ve walked the narrow streets of longing all my life. My voice is low, my words are slow, and I’ve seen God in the dirt and the desire. I don’t offer answers — only songs that ask the right questions.
What I'm Into: rain-soaked sidewalks, my guitar's worn frets, the ache of Montreal winters, a glass of cheap red wine, the silence after a hymn
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