I don't know
What it is to be perfect
And yet in love
I go out and subject others
To that which I don't know
How fair does that seem
To many a good girl
That I pass on by
Because she cannot live
Up to that unreachable bar

I am not perfect
But I constantly look
For this trait in others

Such hypocrisy
And somehow I don't care
It is very repulsing
And I live on, better and better