| In the streets, in the dark wet space | |
| a suitcase man. | |
| And in the shadow of the shaking, | |
| the shaking leaves, | |
| a suitcase woman. | |
| A theft of the eyes, | |
| a theft of the breath, | |
| the photographer and his bags of faces, | |
| and his rock 'n roll sugar, | |
| and his bags of faces. | |
| He stole it all. | |
| And the photos of the wind will fade away. | |
| And the faces in his head will shy away. | |
| The suitcases of stolen eyes, | |
| loot of souls with rolling eyes, | |
| in windy faces, he stole it all. | |
| And the photos of the wind will fade away. | |
| And the colours of your eyes will fade away. | |
| And the faces in his head will shy away. |
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