Yazoo - Ode to boy

^GWhen he moves I watch him from ^A#behind he turns and laughter flickers in his ^Ceyes intent and direct when he ^Gspeaks, I watch his lips When he ^Gdrives I love to watch his ^A#hands white and smooth almost ^Cfeminine, almost american, ^GI have to watch him.

^Gin his face age descends on ^A#youth, exaggeration on the ^Ctruth he caught me looking then but ^Gsoon his eyes forgot and ^Geverything he ^A#seems to do reflects just another shade of ^Cblue I saw him searching into you and ^Gached a while

^GI watch his lips caress the ^A#glass, his fingers stroke its stem and ^Cpass to lift a cigarette at ^Glast, he dries his eyes ^Gfrom a shadow by the ^A#stair I watch as he weeps ^Cunaware that I'm in awe of his ^Gdespair, but I am there