When he first cried, his mother died I had tried to be his guide When he was born I was too young The father searches for the son In Istanbul Give him back to me, oh Istanbul Give me back my brown eyed son Moonlight jumping throught he trees Sunken eyes avoiding me From dawn to dusk, the hunt is on The father searches for the son In Istanbul Give him back to me, in Istanbul Give me back my brown eyed son On secret streets in disbelief Little shadow shows the lead Prostitutes stylish and glum In amongst them, you are one Oh what have I done Rolling breathless off the tongue The viscious street gang slang I lean into a box of pine Identify the kid as mine
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