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.