Take Off My Shirt

Why you wearing my shirt, huh?

You trying to look good.

Don't need my shirt to look good, you know.

You look plenty good without it.

You trying to figure out the buttons?

I like it.

I like watching you try to navigate the buttons.

I enjoy it.

The way you navigate.

You always get them wrong though.

You always wind up with one left undone
Leaving this little gap
Where I can see your skin
And if I'm lucky
Something else

Something...

You know, else

Why won't you let me take that shirt off you?

Why do you decide
That this can go from one to two
But never past that
Never past a point
Where you suddenly feel
Like you can wear my clothes
And sleep in my bed
And fall asleep
Without worrying
About whether or not
I want you there?

Why don't you let me play music for you?
And eat food with you?
And laugh with you?
And kiss you?

You can wear my shirt, you know
I like it, I do
But why do you seem confused

Why is it bad that you like it?
That you like being a part of another person
And that it's not a sex thing
Or that it's more than a sex thing
Or that it's different than a sex thing?

Why do you listen to these questions
But not answer them?

Why can't you take off my shirt
And come lay down with me?

I want you to lay here with me
And play astronomy ceiling

I want you to let me get closer
Than anybody else has gotten
And if that's unfair
Than I'm willing to be unfair
Because I'm wondering
If there's a chance
That nobody else
Has ever tried or wanted or asked

I want you to button that shirt up
With me in it too

'Cause see...

We can both fit

We can

We can

We can