I pulled back my sleeve for you
And you pretended to draw on my arm.
It didn’t matter that it wasn’t real,
That it was the plastic pen touching me, not you.
I saw what you were drawing
As well as if it had been real;
That was good enough.
I pulled my sleeve down;
That was good enough.
And you pretended to draw on my arm.
It didn’t matter that it wasn’t real,
That it was the plastic pen touching me, not you.
I saw what you were drawing
As well as if it had been real;
That was good enough.
I pulled my sleeve down;
That was good enough.
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