I've just listened to a documentary on Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah by Guy Garvey of Elbow on Radio 2. You can hear it on BBC iplayer.
By any measure it's a great song. The focus of the documentary is on how the song seems to have a life of its own, being covered by a multitude of artists each bringing out new depths and meanings (with the possible exception of Bon Jovi). The documentary asks why this should be, and through the many insightful comments often comes to the almost sacred nature of the song, which is not just a product of its biblical imagery.
In recognising this the commenters are discerning that in some sense this song is "everysong," - the song of everyman. At the heart of every song is the contrast between the "broken" and the "holy" hallelujah, but whether broken or holy, every song is a Hallelujah. This is because "Hallelujah" is song: it is the word God created for creation to express worship to him (it means praise the Lord); whenever someone sings it, it is a musical celebration of life. Even the shape it forms on the lips and the sound it produces from the vocal chords has a sense of joy, release and perfection.
For those who know God this celebration of life is full and complete - "life in its fulness". For those who don't know God it is still a celebration of life, still "holy," but also it is a sigh of longing for completion or fulness, of union with God, it is "broken."
The song isn't itself worship, the sexual imagery, though artistic and tasteful by many standards, is inappropriate for sacred music, and the framing of the song as searchful and questioning also mean it is not a song that can be lifted in praise to God. Yet it is a cry to God nonetheless; it captures the heart of humanity and the determination of the human spirit to sing its Hallelujah even when separated from its intended audience.