MR. PERFECT REVISITED
by Chrissy Engstrom

i was so sure it was him...
but not really... maybe just suspected...
no... he wasn't even suspect.
it wasn't him... never was.
not once.

he was almost blonde...
and could have been a redhead once...
but they were wrong. all wrong.
wrong from the beginning.
i was wrong.

Mr. Perfect didn't die,
especially not in my backseat.
Mr. Perfect refused my backseat.
He knew what might happen there.

instead Mr. Perfect kissed
me happy two-thousand-two
and held my hand.
i know he's Mr. Perfect
'cause Mr. Perfect makes me
feel special, like a Goddess.
Mr. Perfect is more perfect
than i'd ever have asked for.

thank-you, Mr. Perfect, for choosing me.

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