How to fake a blowout without heat

I heard he sang a good song, I heard he had a style And so I came to see him, to listen for a while And there he was, this young boy A stranger to my eyes Strumming my pain with his fingers Singing my life with his words Healing me softly with his song Telling my whole life with his words Healing me softly with his song I felt all flushed with fever Embarrassed by the crowd I felt he'd found my letters And read each one out loud I prayed that he would finish But he just kept right on Strumming my pain with his fingers Singing my life with his words Healing me softly with his song