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