When he first cried his mother diedI had tried to be his guideWhen he was born I was too youngThe father searches for the sonIn Istanbul, give him back to meOh Istanbul, give me back my brown-eyed sonMoonlight jumping through the treesSunken eyes avoiding me,From dawn to dusk, the hunt is on,The father searches for the sonIn Istanbul, give him back to meIn Istanbul give me back my brown-eyed sonOn secret streets in disbeliefLittle shadow shows the leadProstitutes, stylish and glumIn amongst them you are oneOh, what have I done?!Rolling breathless off the tongueThe vicious street gang slangI lean into a box of pineIdentify the kid as mine