Well, you don't know mad from sad You don't know explaining from complaining You don't know next who you'll be blaming And you don't know me at all
The ones you're closest to Should be those really knowing you But you haven't got a clue Even though you say you do
You think you've got me figured out You know without a doubt Just who I am And what I'm all about
But you don't know mad from sad You don't know explaining from complaining You don't know next who you'll be blaming And you don't know me at all
You've got me pigeon-holed Cataloged and bought and sold Oh, but truth be told I don't quite fit your mold
But there's many sides and angles That you haven't seen And since you haven't looked You don't know what I mean
If somebody's being open then it's moping You don't know squawking from just plain talking You don't even know which way you're walking And you don't know me at all
If anyone claims to be As close as you say you are to me And yet has failed to see Never really loved, don't you agree?
If they did they'd show That they don't know about myself Instead of shoving me Upon some dusty shelf
But you don't know mad from sad You don't know explaining from complaining You don't know next who you'll be blaming And you don't know me at all
If somebody's being open then it's moping You don't know squawking from just plain talking You don't even know which way you're walking And you don't know me at all No, you don't know me at all