I see his hands in his pocket
Dark suite, dark shades
he strode with a stride so straight
And his hat, oh his hat filled with a nights dream
Slowly his lips curve into a whistle
Blowing, he sings his song
The subtle sound that all hear
And carefully he pulled love with a needle
Sorrowfully, the walk never ends
He never stops kissing the hands of beauty
Or fueling the ego of a prince
He has that smile, the one that killed the game
And those eyes that never stare off in shame .
