The kind that all the songs and prophets preach.

That ideal relationship, just out of reach,

 The kind that all the songs and prophets preach,

Have I just got scales in my eyes?

Stopped seeing the best, the love in the guy,

Has it just got layered in dust,

Melded down with layers of rust,

I assume that I know all there is to know,

Stopped seeing the sparks and caring, so

Have my expectations just got in the way?
That ideal relationship just out of reach,

Maybe it’s there, if I don’t impeach,

I need to look at the whole,

Test out my beliefs ,then cut out the bull,

I need to analyse my feelings, pull them apart,

Maybe test,  the workings of my treacherous heart,

Get out the duster, scale the rust,

Look hard at my lover, try or bust,

The ideal relationship maybe within reach.
The kind that all the songs and prophets preach.