when he moves i watch him from behind
  he turns and laughter flickers in his eyes
  intent and direct when he speaks, i watch his lips
  and when he drives i love to watch his hand
  white and smooth almost feminine, almost american, i have to watch him.
    (chorus)
  in his face age descends on youth, exaggeration on the truth
  he caught me looking then but soon his eyes forgot
  and everything he seems to do reflects just another shade of blue
  i saw him searching into you and ached a while
    i watch his lips caress the glass,
  his fingers stroke its stem and pass
  to lift a cigarette at last, he dries his eyes
  from a shadow by the stair
  i watch as he weeps unaware
  that i'm in awe of his despair, but i am there
    (chorus repeat)