Head full of diamonds, pockets full of sand
Got a million dollar dreams trapped in this two-bit hand
Sketches for a symphony, a novel in my head
But the fear of every flaw leaves all the words unsaid

I see the sunrise, but it's never just right
Chasing the daylight, through every night
I'm painting a picture, but the colours don't blend
Endless revisions, where does it end? 

Oh, the perfectionist blues, what a heavy load
Chasing illusions down a winding road
Need to learn to settle, need to let it go
Perfection's just a shadow, a truth I need to know

The world isn't flawless, even God made a few
Mistakes in creation, a cosmic debut
The stars in their courses, they sometimes collide
Perfection's a myth that I've got to let slide

They say even God ain't perfect, made some stumbles on his way
Mountains and the oceans, imperfections in their display
Maybe beauty lies in flaws, the cracks that let the light shine through
Maybe "good enough" is all we ever need to pursue

Perfectionist blues, I'm gonna rewrite your song 
Break free from the loop, let my creations flow strong
No more chasin' shadows, just gotta find my peace
"Good enough" is openin' doors, a sweet release 

Diamonds in my dreams can shimmer just as bright
Even with a grain of sand, they'll catch the morning light
So goodbye perfectionist blues, I'm singin' a brand new tune
Good enough is beautiful, it's high time to bloom

See’st thou yon gray gleaming hall,
Where the deep elm-shadows fall?
Voices that have left the earth
Long ago,
Still are murmuring round its hearth,
Soft and low:
Ever there;—yet one alone
Hath the gift to hear their tone.
Guests come thither, and depart,
Free of step, and light of heart;
Children, with sweet visions blessed,
In the haunted chambers rest;
One alone unslumbering lies
When the night hath sealed all eyes,
One quick heart and watchful ear,
Listening for those whispers clear.
 
See’st thou where the woodbine-flowers
O’er yon low porch hang in showers?
Startling faces of the dead,
Pale, yet sweet,
One lone woman’s entering tread
There still meet!
Some with young, smooth foreheads fair,
Faintly shining through bright hair;
Some with reverend locks of snow—
All, all buried long ago!
All, from under deep sea-waves,
Or the flowers of foreign graves,
Or the old and bannered aisle,
Where their high tombs gleam the while;
Rising, wandering, floating by,
Suddenly and silently,
Through their earthly home and place,
But amidst another race.
 
Wherefore, unto one alone,
Are those sounds and visions known?
Wherefore hath that spell of power
Dark and dread,
On her soul, a baleful dower,
Thus been shed?
Oh! in those deep-seeing eyes,
No strange gift of mystery lies!
She is lone where once she moved,
Fair, and happy, and beloved!
Sunny smiles were glancing round her,
Tendrils of kind hearts had bound her;
Now those silver chords are broken,
Those bright looks have left no token;
Not one trace on all the earth,
Save her memory of their mirth.
She is lone and lingering now,
Dreams have gathered o’er her brow,
Midst gay songs and children’s play,
She is dwelling far away;
Seeing what none else may see—
Haunted still her place must be!