What is it with writing songs in dark cramped places? I wrote this in the middle of the night in a root cellar attached to my sister’s house. We were visiting and I couldn’t sleep, so I went somewhere where I could play the guitar without waking anyone up. This song popped out.

I like the idea of a song about a concept, and I was writing this one without every naming the concept in the lyrics. Of course naming the song “perfection” kind of gives the game away…

When I look at the world
It begs the question
Then I look in your face
you make the suggestion
it’s the whole human race
giving in to passion
the deepening lines on my face
you want a reaction

I see it in pop music
the simplicity and energy
the cynical and powerful
might just see it in money
Fleeting in it’s beauty
try to put your finger on it
was it there

A philisophical strain
explain my behavior
theology’s bane
or is it the savior?
But the light’s fading fast
cool evening air is descending
we knew it couldn’t last
… still unprepared for the ending

I see it in technology
the abstraction and the symetry
you see it in nature
in the bright clear morning air
Fleeting in it’s harmony
we’re clinging to it’s memory
was it there?
Oh… was it there?


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