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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