I asked my mother
Why she wanted me to be so perfect
She looked at me and said I shouldn’t bother
Cuz’ perfect is not something that I can reach.

I don’t blame her really,
It’s myself that I blame

Since perfect is something that I need to be
I need it like the body needs oxygen

Become a doctor she says
But my hearts not in it

I want the rush of the wind on my face
The sound of millions of people clapping
The smell of roses in the air
The feeling of satisfaction after a difficult performance

She says I should settle for less

With silent thankyou’s from strangers
And the smiling face of my own child looking up at me.

I look at her and know
That nothing can be done
Because we are mother and daughter
And history repeats it’s self

Long ago she had the same dreams
Until someone told her she had flown too high
Too high for her little wings
So looking down she dropped to the ground
And settled for much less

My mother looks at me now and I see years of bound pain in her eyes
I can’t blame her
Because we are mother and daughter
And history repeats it’s self

History always repeats it’s self.