Tears have become my enemy.
TV shows crying as a moment of being open.
When you're willing to accept the new experience of change...
So when they show up, why do I only want to fight?
Just toss them out the window, unseen and in the dark.
You're sweet hand on my stained cheeks,
and those eyes of yours...
I wish I could meet their glory.
Without the weight of worry that I'll break down. Again.


I am loving the fortune of your love for me.
I am your kind of perfect...
Maybe now I can become my own kind of perfect, too.