Pretty keen, yes, my hobby keeps me busy
And if I talk to myself, what's the crime?
In the darkroom I am a dealer in space and time
When all memory is mellowed
When the photograph is yellowed
Still it never lies

There you are, your eyes laced with secret pleasure
Saying that you're on the way to change
Devouring in inordinate measure
Every diversion that's arranged
For every appetite, a cruel attraction
But there's a panic in your actions
Oh, I never saw you look so strange

Fixing memory chemically
Holding time on the stop, clock
Hanging back from that last frame
Just in case it didn't show you
In the way I used to know you
I thought you'd always stay the same

The red light, the silver
The black and the bromide
The silence, the waiting for overview
The past seems under, exposed, low tide
But still the images ghost through
And you're there in the bath
Which is all this has led to
And I can't say your path
Is a right one to choose

But then
I only have a negative of you