Interview

A sweet young man sat on my chair

With a tape machine and a face of fear

He asked how does it feel to be who you are

I thought, this boy really thinks I'm a star

I answered him with humility

And then asked him if he'd like some tea

Interview, who's interviewing who

Are you interviewing me

Or am I interviewing you

He asked if the rug was some ancient, lovely thing

I lied and said "Yes a gift from a king"

I watched his arms and how his lips moved

He asked me if my parents approved

He asked to see my Ruby ring

And if as a child I had liked to sing

Interview, who's interviewing who

Are you interviewing me

Or am I interviewing you

I said yes, Oh yes 400 times

"You're so open" he said "do you always tell the truth?"

"Never," I said, "What's that?"

But how would it feel to hold me in your arms

You could get to know me down on the farm

Then you could see me as the child I've become

'Cause being grown up can be so lonesome

Baby, how would it feel to hold me now

Baby, how would it feel to hold me now

Interview, who's interviewing who

Are you interviewing me

Or am i interviewing you