The Perfect Man
My whole life, it seems
I've spent only waiting
For the perfect man
My mind's always painting
I've searched and searched
But the end's all alike
I'll go to bed empty
Sleep alone for the night
Suddenly, my hopes grow limp
My portrait fades to bland
I realize that my search must end
There is no perfect man
But you proved me wrong
You showed me what's right
And handed back that paintbrush
To paint again tonight
But there is no need to paint
My work is nearly done
Because of her the colors returned
The light of love has won
My whole life of waiting
Has someone to end my strife
My dream has been accomplished:
The portrait came to life
|