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