Who do you think you're foolin'?
Maybe yourself, certainly not me.
Your little friends will see the polish,
but I know that a lady doesn't bite her nails.
They see long fingers, I know how fragile they are.
They see your beautiful complexion, I remember what you went through to get it that way.
You want to show me a woman, but I still see a girl.
And one day soon my job will be finished, and you won't need me to hold your hand.
You will be a woman, a lady with painted nails,
and I will be the one fooling myself, thinking a child is still holding my hand.
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