'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…