Tekst en muziek: Francis Rossi
(1968)
When I look up to the sky
I see your eyes, a funny kind of yellow
I rush home to bed, I sunk my head
I see your face underneath my pillow
I wake next morning, tired, still yawning
See your face come peeking through my window
Pictures of matchstick men and you
Mirages of matchstick men and you
All I ever see is them and you
Windows echo your reflection
When I look in their direction: gone
When will this haunting stop
Your face, it just won’t leave me alone
Pictures of matchstick men and you
Mirages of matchstick men and you
All I ever see is them and you
You in the sky, you with the sky
You make me cry, your eyes
You in the sky, you with the sky
You make me cry, your eyes
Pictures of matchstick men and
Pictures of matchstick men and
Pictures of matchstick men and
Pictures of matchstick men