The perfect moment.
It doesn't come.
It has left already
With the perfect ones
We were and will be
Before and after now.

I'd love to whisper to your ear 
How perfect you are.

A powerful drunkard, quite known,
True or not,
To use women with his friends
To enhance business deal trips,
Made a whore out of her 
For some after a night
That was already
And didn't even have to pay for it.
She got barbwire 
But didn't kill him
With her wannabe heroic gesture,
Thinking he'd change his ways
After a single night
And no more women would be used
As meat because the powerful saw.
He didn't.
She got barbwire 
And a prostitute label 
That didn't kill her
While a powerful drunkard
Got away blurred and hazy.

Easy, easy with the painkillers.

No lights in sight.
No friends of might.
No light.

The perfect moment.
It doesn't come.
It has left already
With the perfect ones
We were and will be
Before and after now.

O barbedwired girl, 
Just don't cry about a drunkard into whores
Or a label that isn't yours
While the drunkard shines
And you're left in the dark
Both in wards
By the way it goes.

I'd love to whisper to your ear
How perfect you are to us.