Could be a painting,
Half done,
Under shadows,
Dark and fading,
Waiting to be filled in,
By the Painters brush. Could be a dream,
Remembering and speaking,
Your sleeping name,
Black, blue and white,
Running away, In the dark of the night. [x2] Its just your face,
In another place,
Where we met to leave again,
Nothing remains
Save Ink in rain.