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
In Istanbul.
Give me back my brown eyed son.

Moonlight jumping through the 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 vicious street gang slang
I lean into a box of pine
Identify the kid as mine