Pictures of Perfect Women

The world is a beautiful woman that doesn’t even know I exist,
And I’m still some little boy lost to the point of all of this,
I just don’t care about where tomorrow is taking its ride,
Or picking bloody diamonds off the sidewalk from a crashed Wall Street bride.
But I want to believe in something; oh something that can deliver me,
I know what I’m looking at but I don’t know what I’m supposed to see.
The sky is a bleeding barrier to the heavens soft design,
The stars proof of the light beyond for which the Earth bound angel does pine,
But this is not some dreamer’s definition; this is flesh and clock,
Sick-souls and mercy-boats dashed upon the rock.
But I want to believe in something; oh something that can salvage me,
The blank script of the everlasting now is the mere burden of my memory.
She is the desert on my lips; let her be the river for I can drink her,
From her actions I must infer the thought that built the thinker,
A boy studying pictures of perfect women from a hopeless room,
He’s just dreaming up the details of his masterpiece of doom.
But I want to believe in something; oh something that can believe in me,
And pictures of perfect women are the stuff of apathy.