Perfect

He carves the lines
In perfect a thousand times
And soon it will be
He sings a song
Its out of tune
Its all wrong
And soon it will be
His hands, they shake
Aface in not pine
And soon it will be
His lanterns he lights
Can luminate his life
And soon it will be
He tries to build
The fog lights cant be filled
And soon it will be
His hands they shake
Aface in not in pine
And soon it will be
And it sits in his right hand
But he never understands
And while nothings getting done
Hes just waiting to become