a perfect dream of a love long gone
her husband’s name, not remembered in song
and it’s not for tryin’ that it didn’t come through
and it won’t be dyin’, to live what’s true

a phone call of one; the wife of a friend
who says there is hope that his darkness will end
and his brothers are rallied; compassionate cry
his truth to be seen before he will die

a phone call of three; the work of a dream
possibilities grow though they might not be seen
and pictures on screens are all very fine
so much better when i can say that they’re mine

and all this perfection tucked into one day
for which i am grateful, i can honestly say
and as honestly know there are still bumps in the road
its perfectly handled as we each bear our load

i once worked with a gentleman, who was left outside on the curb in san francisco by his mates whom he was shooting heroin with. he died of exposure — but really, he died of so much more… parents, hug your children. know them and show them as perfect as they are… or they might take short-cuts that cut shorter then expected