I wish things were different. I wish things were real.
I wish people could talk about exactly as they feel.
The world is full of hate and unexpected turmoil.
If only we could learn to love, and to be real.
Life only happens once, so why deny yourself?
Please come to me and tell me, exactly what I want.
'Course, perfection never happens.
Perfect isn't real.
Perfect is a dream inside you really shouldn't feel.
Perfection is elusive, in every waking moment.
Perfection would be, to me anyway, A sense of devotion.
A sense of belonging.
A sense of something more.
But right now...
Right now I only feel disappointment.
I only feel the insane.
What kind of life is that?
To only feel Extreme?
It's the kind of stuff dreams are made of.
The only thing that's real.
I don't wish this life on anyone, especially those who cannot feel.