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Ode to Boy  Yazoo

[G]When he moves I watch him from [A#]behind
he turns and laughter flickers in his [C]eyes
intent and direct when he [G]speaks, I watch his lips
When he [G]drives I love to watch his [A#]hands
white and smooth almost [C]feminine,
almost american, [G]I have to watch him.
Chorus
[G]in his face age descends on [A#]youth, exaggeration on the [C]truth
he caught me looking then but [G]soon his eyes forgot
and [G]everything he [A#]seems to do reflects just another shade of [C]blue
I saw him searching into you and [G]ached a while
[G]I watch his lips caress the [A#]glass,
his fingers stroke its stem and [C]pass
to lift a cigarette at [G]last, he dries his eyes
[G]from a shadow by the [A#]stair
I watch as he weeps [C]unaware
that I'm in awe of his [G]despair, but I am there
(chorus repeat)

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