Perfect ( Not )

Stars are there to be enlightend
& light up a special life
granted by the wish
of a stolen blooded knife

caught between a fire
deep within a mind
blowing different whistles
of plentant family time

sat at a round table
with dinner on each end
crowed by a photograph
perfect one to send

chats about memeorys
of past present or now
please pass the potatos
its kinda real somehow

but across the wooden table
lies a dead hearted girl
who mind is kind of mistaken
lost up inside a twhirl

so when the talk has endded
and the knife has been washed clean
the wounds in which have been created
will never ever be seen.