The trees burst up in lively, fresh green leaves.
Bright beams of sunlight steal the last remains
Of snow and those reminders of the winter.
The world's released of Father Frost's cold chains.
Is he the only one who finds it odd?
The rain and snow has held them down for weeks.
And now that rain's appropriate, it fades
It's only remains rolling down his cheeks.
He never knew the kid, he barely met him.
He doesn't even know why he is here.
And yet, he is, and standing in the shadows
He stares down at the black square hole in fear.
This grave is not for him. He shouldn't panic.
It would be way too small for him as well.
The body at the autopsy is tiny
Compared to him. But still it hurts like hell.
A sex crime. It is whispered off the record.
The murderer's a father and a friend.
He thinks he shouldn't have to read these letters.
He thinks he should have been there to prevent.
He's standing in the open, just like that.
He knows he'll raise suspicion if he's seen.
He wonders: did the murderer feel this?
He wonders if the boy's pain has been keen.
The incident took place one early evening
And only a few streets from where he lives.
A crash, a scream, and nothing left but prayers
And searches, and now he can not forgive.
He should have been right out there when it happened;
He should have found the bike left in the rye-
Not from his hiding place in greening bushes
Watch parents tell their child their last goodbye.
He should have been for hours where he wasn't!
Should have been there before, held him alive...
And now his eyes are running out of water
But no "I'm sorry" brings him back to life.
Es kam so über mich. Eigentlich als fanfiction geschrieben, für dich, Mirco. Aber ich dachte, hierher passt es auch. Wir denken an dich. Wir trauern um dich. Und wir vertrauen darauf, dass wo immer du bist, es dort besser ist als hier.