I don't want to be perfect,
but still I strive to be this way.
The pressures build day by day.

I’m told to do my best
but we all know that'll never do;
either your good at art or a master at Kung-foo.

But how does one~
find that skill,
that some say tends to make them ill.

I know one day it will all make sense.
I'll find that path
which will hopefully end my silly wrath...

Until that day,
I'll laugh at the struggles
and try not to cry through my troubles

I know, that even though
I'm not truly perfect
I am unique.
And
I am perfect,
in someone else's eyes