Little Miss Perfect
Wearing her dress
Sat on your lap
To justly confess
A doctor, librarian, serious woman
Too business acting to imagine you slumming
Your long brown hair up high fell down in an English braid
Hair so in control was keeping you from getting laid
Those contacts inside those brown eyes
With your perfect makeup didn't get you guys
Those ten years during your thirties
Weren't filled with men with nasty dirties
Things that you, Miss Perfect,
Wouldn't know
While all the while,
Inside you secretly wanted so
To go out drinking
Let your armpits be stinking
Go on laughing out of control
Way too loose back then for your Miss Perfect soul
Time flows on and each new day
This "librarian" stayed away
From drunken men and sex and sin
She didn't smile that much again
As she does now
And she did at sixteen
Every decade somehow
Becomes a forgotten dream
Where you have no control
Of the part you play
The seasons do roll
Until ten years are a day
Where you're back to Miss Perfect
Decked out to a tee
Appearing in and producing
That 1980's film you didn't see.
