He was passing my world
Whistlin' the melody
In the simple suit with hands in his pockets
Dirty pieces of paper
Was floatin' in the air
And he was marchin'
Over'n'over again.
I've never seen his face.
Never heard his melody
I've never known that world
Is a part of his tragedy.
Trampling the povement
Of my quiet life
Smashing the puzzles made of human souls
He was spittin' with hate red as the blood
