'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…