Sometimes I see a little boy,
In a blue and yellow striped shirt,
In the corner of my eye.
He told me he is a lost spirit,
And that I was to adopt him.
The boy did not remember his name,
He only knew that he was four.
So I tried to call him timothy.
He gave me a headache,
He does not like the name Timothy,
He prefers Collin.
Sometimes he is in my dreams,
And he asks me to sing to him.
He cries when I sing church songs.
And he cries when I smoke or light a candle.
I think he died in a church.
I think he died in a fire.
Poor Collin.
Sometimes he just watches me.
And he sings a little song.
"The wind moves the tree.
And I move too.
But what moves me?
That is up to you."
Poor Collin.
Other stories about Collin can be found in the collection "Son", which you can find if you look in the notes down below.