Il Mio Amore
Strangers, stranger still, how I love.
Azzurro, il mio amore, ho desiderato appena tutti.
A quiet obsession from face to face juvenility.
You are truely perfection.
I'm perfect, Imperfect
What is perfect when imperfections become the stark end?
Voices never seem to sound quite as the used to
Muffled by surrounding differences,
Dampened by the words barely heard,
And better off never heard at all.
But I heard your words, my love,
And you proudly kept the flag of my defeat,
campaigned across your lips.