Mr. X

I found the perfect picture, of a perfect stranger

It looked as if it were taken in the forties sometime

Judging by the style

He could be a killer or a blind man with a cane

Perhaps he died in a car crash years ago

Right now, it's impossible to tell

I almost thought I saw him standing, whistling on a bridge

I asked him the time, but when he turned around

I saw it wasn't him at all

I'm still searching

I'm still searching

I saw him in an airport, while he was sitting on a wing

And I waved to him, but I don't think he noticed me

I've got a funny feeling I know who he is

Mr. X (repeat)