Perfect World
When the days grow long and dull, I can't help but dream of another life--of another world. A place where I am not me, but you are still you. A place where I am wild and unwise, yet timid and mild as well. Where I am perfectly blended, but you are still you. And, in this other world, the night is always bright with a ripe fully-developed moon and a million stars twinkle wiht a brightness--with a radiance like the most perfect of jewels. And your eyes always reflect perfection in my direction. I wish I felt perfect and I wish you could see me in perfection. That my dreams of this other world could come true. But, I don't think that it's possible--that I'm possible. Pointless dreams of an unobtainable world and an unobtainable heart.
perfect world copyright 2000-2001 flowerboy productions.