The Perfectionist

Painted sky and plastic gardens
Custom beauty with no pleasure
Little demons shouting in your head

Everything that's true
Never enough for you
Do you count all these tiny things
That pull you down?

Damaged from the start
They say you don't have a heart
Locked in your clockwork cold imagination

Emptiness filled with sand
Forms your perfect emotional land
There's no joy
Just frustrated insanity

You cannot construct flowers
Cannot change the shape of tears
Can't you understand why?
You cannot breathe, cannot breathe
Drowning in your delusion
Reach out

Get mesmerized by imperfection
See the size of your deception!
Taste the chaos of all beauty outside
Can't you erase all those rhymes?
And for a second feel alive