Perfection is that shiny, tidy line you try to finish before the world even notices, while chaos is the paint that splashes itself across the canvas—wild, loud, and full of unexpected color. In art, I love when those two collide, like a quiet whisper interrupted by a thunderclap. The neat line can’t stay quiet forever; it gets splattered, reshaped, and suddenly feels alive. So, I say: let chaos write the chorus, and let perfection play the bass—because without that jarring riff, the song sounds like a lullaby.