‘Cause I went looking for a trace of something that you left   And when I saw dried paint and your scribbled initials   I acted like I could care less while my thumb press to the paper   I wanted to find your portrait, wanted to have it      Recalling a piercing voice in old dreams   And ghostly images of black trains   Now seeing every page is turned away   I wanted to own your portrait   Wanted to have it      You and your scribbled paper makes me shiver so   You and your scribbled paper makes me shiver so