#84 YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU DON’T KNOW

#84 YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU DON'T KNOW
(Americana)

(DEMO)

(Full Arrangement)

You Don't Know What You Don't Know

I watch the sun rise, drink my coffee,
Alone in the back porch, across from our chair.
I'd lay on your lap, feel you breathing,
You'd hum softly while you braid my hair.
Planting flowers by myself, spring afternoon,
Find my gloves next to our old croquet set.
Months earlier, we're arguing in the kitchen,
I ask, you say "Can't know what we are just yet."

I could blame you or I could bless you,
So I'm gonna walk the softer road.
Until my last day it’ll task me,
You don’t know what you don’t know.

Lonely room full of cardboard boxes,
Waiting to be filled with all your damn books.
You said "I'll pay for your time and shipping."
Stack them in the open garage -- let the neighbors look.
That night back in the kitchen, between the yelling,
Show the pic of us dancing where you smile and I beam.
You drink your drink, tell me it's thin evidence,
Then ask "What does a ring even mean?"

I could blame you or I could bless you,
Trying to walk that softer road.
Until my last day it’ll task me,
You don’t know what you don’t know.

Vineyard terrace, drinking wine, I say "Want this life!"
You look around, nod then say "View's really nice."
That night driving home, you hum as you're steering,
I stare out the window, fidget with my earring.

Tried to bless you, now I blame you,
Wandered off that softer road.
Until my final day it’ll task me,
You don’t know what you don’t know.

I blame you but still can't grow to hate you,
Even on this harder road.
I guess you're now well past me,
But til my last day it will task me,
You don’t know what you don’t know.