I wrote my heart down on a piece of paper.
And you tore it apart.
But I held your hand.
So, in sooth, I raised the flag.

How am I ever going to flip your pages,
now that you no longer belong to me.
To embrace in detail all your darts which used glimmer.
You know you had my soul.
And you were my heart.

Now in your depths are all my joy and ambitions.
You must set me free.
And should I not touch you again,
you ought to know.
I am genuine.
So is my past.
And you will always remain in me,
for as long as the moon we always desired to tread,
exists.