Your Gulberg room, walls like a gallery
You trace your brush along the rough canvas
Mangoes, chai and cigarettes
Wheels bump in the moonlit backstreets

And the mole on your shoulder blade
With each subtle twist of the wrist made
Your talent for motorbikes and art
Fascinate me, and my restless heart

Those berr trees which disguise
This city, could it be tonight?
Each turn taken, smooth like honey
The pull in my muscle, each bone of my body

The strokes that blend
Blue, yellow and red
Meld together effortlessly
Orange, green and brown instead

Safety and danger in your eyes
I run, but you elude and hide
Just when I think we’ve arrived
Then you cast me aside

Circling Main Market, where do I find you?
Where do I stop? I’m searching anew
Coursing through my veins like the passion of your streets
The sweat on your brow, and the race of my heartbeat

My fingers trace your brushstrokes
Round and round, uncloacked your overcoat
Perfect for me, I think you want this too
This moment is fleeting, and the morning breaks too soon

A city together, and a world apart
You can be mine, but can I ever be for you?
Ten years, or just tonight
Will I ever know you the way others do?