Paul kicks up trash on a dirty street. A few pages dance away in the wind. They cause a deep breath and a lusty sigh when he compares them to his Rosalind.
Early on Roz was a sight to behold, and she always made him feel like a man, But Paul thinks time`s been cruel to her form the way the ocean wears away at the sand.
CHORUS His perfection is a neon light. It stains his flashing eye. And the after-image in his head at night is nothing but a lie.
He wants his world to be a perfect one, says she no longer fills his needs. so he crams her into iron clothes, and gives her steel bread dough to knead.
CHORUS His perfection is a neon light. It stains his flashing eye. And the after-image in his bed at night is nothing but a lie.
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