The Man With The Black Moustache

When he speaks he's never loud

You could lose him in a crowd

Changing color with the clouds

Self-effacing at the start

Oh so well he plays his part

Secret violence in his heart

Something stirring deeper down

This man is no children's clown

Leads you on to shaky ground

All good things, they have to end

Only so much you can spend

Broken faith is slow to mend