I’m still waiting on that perfect stranger to rescue me,
The Apollo of all men, to profess his love sincerely.
The one with the white horse and unparalleled bravery,
Who’ll fight for my hand and heart resolutely.

But so far I’ve only found him in bits and pieces,
Where sometimes he’s a charming face without feeling,
Or a brilliant mind without a heart,
A romantic soul too revealing,
Or a cynic who only plays a bitter part.

So I’ve given up on the many faces,
With the misleading costumes of character,
Unmasked and handsome with eyes of integrity,
I’ll wait on my perfect stranger,
To sweep me of my feet with his simplicity.

So I’ll sit idly by and wait patiently on him,
For the day when we’ll meet each other,
When fairytales are no longer a conjecture,
And two dreamers can be together.