You played a guitar in the middle of history
and I, I was embarrassed to know the fingers
that flitted across strings and sang chords
under their breath.

The others were laughing, they were laying
down their textbooks and bobbing their heads
and I, I was embarrassed to know the eyes
that bounced back at me and gave me
reason to believe in cliches.

The teacher told you to put it down
your grades were slipping away
and I, I was embarrassed to know
the lips that shot a witty response
which made the class groan with sympathy
then turned back to me in a grin.

You sat back down into the seat by my side
your fingers were drumming against a page
and I, I was embarrassed to know the hands
that tried to grab mine.