I knew a boy who liked to draw, he drew pictures no one saw
He was most artistic late at night, in the bathroom out of sight
He kept a secret no one new, he didn't tell a soul and his gallery grew
His drawings were different, no paper no pen, but needed a bandage now and again.
We stood by the river, under the stars
He rolled up his sleeve and showed me his scars
He felt embarassed and looked down at his shoe, then I rolled up my sleeves and whispered: "I draw too"
