mind the kiosk right there where your street is dying
where you buy your daily press so carelessly
where your sleeping eyes meet my hot yearning eyes
sometimes I'm selling there disguised
have you ever wondered why some taxi stops
right before your house for longsome evening hours
though many people'd let him earn in various streets
it's me who sits there patietly
there must be something in your eyes
there must be something in your heart
there must be something in your soul
that orders to sit
on your rosy street
and watch the sunset on your window glass
he who asked now what's the time when you stepped in
another's where's Dry Forest (ha!) when you stepped out
another's begging look when you were passing by
you didn't even notice that
I don't disturb you do I love
(not at all)
there must be something in your eyes
there must be something in your heart
there must be something in your soul
that orders to sit
on your rosy street
and watch the sunset on your window glass
07/'97