Yes, we are trying for perfection.
But perfection can not be obtained.
No, you can't tell callousness from affection,
Or green fields from a cold, steel rail.
I don't think we'll ever walk.
Foundations? Broken shoes.
And what did you say when we first met?
"I was born to be a muse."
Well, that's just what you are to me.
I love you, babe, forever.
I love you like the blues.
Like Billie's Stormy Weather.
I cut my hair again,
Like just before we started.
I always thought I was cut out for a hair-cut,
Like you were to be broken-hearted.
Like you were to be a muse.
I love you, babe, forever,
But it's a laughing life I choose.


October 2010