People that I meet and pass

In the city's broken roar, Faces that I lose so soon And have never found before,

Do you know how much you tell In the meeting of our eyes, How ashamed I am, and sad To have pierced your poor disguise?

Secrets rushing without sound Crying from your hiding places-- Let me go, I cannot bear The sorrow of the passing faces.

--People in the restless street, Can it be, oh can it be In the meeting of our eyes That you know as much of me?