Ode To Boy - Yaz

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)