Strange.
I've seen that face before.
Seen him hanging around my door,
like a hawk stealing for the prey,
like the night waiting for the day.
Strange.
He shadows me back home.
Footsteps echo on the stone.
Rainy nights on hustling bars.
Parisian news drifting from the bars.
Dance in bars and restaurants.
Home with anyone who wants.
He's standing there alone.
Staring eyes chill me to the bone.