Perfection is in innocence
Perfection passes time
Perfection is in patience
And I’m a doctor
Waiting at the door.
Perfection is made of wood
Perfection walks the line
Perfection watches longly
As two unobtrusive strangers
Go on casually passing by.
Perfection was a memory
Perfection shared some sadness
Perfection lasted happily
Inside a lover’s underwear
Of a shady navy blue.
