Copyright © 2026 https://suno.com/@mich_bergde Mike Berg All rights reserved. Without a trace of shame the night came down, and stole you from the light of my days. The wind erased your whispered sound, turned every word to drifting gray. Left behind: the silence in these walls, questions no one hears anymore. Memories flicker like fading films, teaching me how to live without you at all – weak, forced to endure. How do I live when my heart’s in the past? How do I move when there’s no “us” to grasp? You took a part of me when you ran into an unseen silence, now I’m searching for what’s left of me. Your name won’t fade, it stays awake, in drug-soaked dreams that blur my sight. Every breath I take today feels too late, learning to stand in the crowd, with no sign of your light. How do I live when my heart’s in the past? How do I move when there’s no “us” to grasp? You took a part of me when you vanished into silence unseen, now I’m searching for what’s left of me. Maybe I’ll see you someday again, in a fleeting dream, a quiet sign. You never chose a future with me back then – we’ll meet again when this time is mine. How do I live, how do I breathe without you near? How do I not disappear in the night so severe? You took a part of me when you vanished in silence unseen… now I’m learning to live, with this silence in me – every night, every dream.
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