no matter how hard you try...

you're incapable of being perfect.
and i love it.
if you wanted it so bad you couldve said something.
last night i had a dream and you were in it.
you said, "and i think you'd be perfect"
but you never said for what.
i want to know.
tell me?
dancing in the parking lot of a new jersey jailhouse.
i found something very calming about the jersey turnpike.
i poured my hart and sole into every move.
the lights from passing cars set my mood perfectly.
the sound of sirens coming into the station.
drunks filing out of the cars.
people worrying as our bus sat there, missing a tire.
"alright, everyone back on board."
excuse me sir, but are you fucking insane?
policemen offered me coffee and gave me a place to sleep.
they saw me dancing, coming off a tour bus.
my head high but my hopes low.
they thought i was someone special.
and for a second, i felt special.
i wanted to be special.
but i wasnt. and i'm still not.
not to you. not to me.
you'll never understand why i wrote that story.
and you'll never understand why it hurt so bad
to have you blow it off that quickly.
when you acknowledged it i felt important for once in my life.
but you've already forgotten about it.
and my smile went along with it.
i'll keep you in my dreams
if you'll keep me locked inside your heart shaped box.