On

Something correct can never be quite wrong,
But it can be a little off, you know?
The way that glowworms always have a glow
That's slightly eerie; or a night-bird's song
Still strikes you as a little sharp, or long,
Or somehow out of sync with what should go
With nighttime; or a day can be too slow
Despite the sun progressing past the throng
Of clouds as quickly as it ever did.
Something that's right is not always complete -
Sometimes there's something else that's deeply hid
Not quite fallacious, but too much discrete.
This isn't that. I'm clear and right and true
About how I feel happiest with you.