Photograph
Michael Hadreas
On the grave, in his place
I take a photograph
In the shade where he lays
I paint a portrait
No fantasy
You were meant for me
And I for you
In the clay of his shape
I trace an autograph
On the stage where he sang
I feel a silhouette
No fantasy
You were meant for me
And I for you
You were meant for me
And I for you
