We have this set of ideals
We wish to follow in life
Like science has its ideal gas laws
And chemical balances they wish to succeed
So do we
We wish to be like an ideal Gas
Although every physicist knows it cannot be
Every gas strives for this
Like us
We say
"on my wedding day, I'll..."
"I'll name my child..."
"When I'm rich, I'll..."
We have these ideals
This set of rules each of us wishes to achieve
Because it's a chronological set we're supposed to achieve
We have this plan
And when life visualises our plan,
She scoffs and laughs
Ha
Ha
You dare think
You can control me?
With your stupid ideals
That don't exist
Tragic
You are not an ideal gas
You play by my rules...
And she takes our page
Our artistic scribbles and childish naive hearts around the page
And she rips it...
But not right down the middle... No no...
She tears slowly...
Destroying every little dream one at a time
She takes a black marker
And she foils our plans
Ever so slightly
Oh but she manipulates our dream

I can never be an ideal gas, can I, life?
You're much too harsh to allow me that
Small wish.