Beauty is Imperfection

I have never said my piece

To strong men and to kings

And my eyes they sweep the ground

When their tragedies are unwound

And the tragedy is how they’ve ruined little things

You dress up in red lipstick

For a date with providence

And every set of eyes is a possible expense

Every new set of arms a residence

But passion turns to violence

And you pin your hope to wings

The tragedy’s the same

they’ve ruined little things

And a weak little man stands

In the corner doing what he can

Helpless to stop brutality

Not ever good for you or me

And soon it comes as sure as if he had the flu

He comes to love his abuser too

And as sure as he’s helpless

The boy he learns to sing

Anther lament of a life ill spent

They’ve ruined little things