You search for me in the cracks of a wrecked wall
but I find myself in a picture
you have once drawn
I feel the paint of suffering melting down
the yellow mixes with dirty red
I think it`s the blood in your glance
the green is gone
it was still in the corner
where you kept your right shoulder
I would wrap myself around you
to see you in colours
like I used to

not too late, not too soon
I have turned into a shroud
but without your image