I found the perfect picture, of a perfect stranger.
It looked as if, it were taken in the forties sometime,
Judging by the style.

He could be a killer or a blind man with a cane,
Perhaps he died in a car crash, years ago.
Right now, it's impossible to tell.

I almost thought I saw him, standing, whistling on a bridge.
I asked him the time, but when he turned around,
I saw it wasn't him at all.

I'm still searching.
I'm still searching.

I saw him in an airport, while he was sitting on a wing.
And I waved to him, but I don't think he noticed me.
I've got a funny feeling I know who he is.