We, the Imperfect People...

We don't expect something from nothing but always keep hope lightly lit We want what we know won't be quite good for us and force situations which never will fit We speak when we should hold our tongues by the throat and let silence bounce off the air We verbalize nothing and yet all at once we scream that the world is unfair We hold all the cards to our life in one hand and grab with the other at dreams We grow up imperfect and tragic and bent and about to burst out at the seams And yet in this comedy of errors we still pin dark dignity down and demand that we're made in the image of One who is mighty and not a mere mortal, a man We yearn for a taste of perfection and search with an uncommon zeal We reach out for moments which polish our bones and convince us our future is real...