I think about finding mostly perfect things
But I see no perfection in myself
Because I understand that we are all flawed beings
And I see beyond your flaws so easily
To the soul you are within
Why is it that when you do the same I can’t comprehend?
It’s like my fractured soul skews the light that hits my eyes
It’s like my mirror is from a fun-house

Maybe we all have fun-house mirrors
We see only distortions of who we really are
Rather than the image that we’re really putting out

Maybe I only see my brokenness
When it’s not even there anymore
Am I even broken to you?
Because you’re definitely not broken to me
A little flawed, maybe, but you don’t need fixing
You’re already mostly perfect

So maybe I’m mostly perfect too
Maybe I just can’t see my mostly
I search for this perfection everywhere
Rather than accepting that I have already truly found it

Let’s throw out our fun-house mirrors
We don’t need them anymore
You have a perfection worth fighting for
And I’m going to do my best to fight for you
Just promise that you’ll fight for me too
And we can be mostly perfect in a flawed perfection