She’s got a boyfriend all of a sudden.
She’s never had one before.
She’s looking for the thumbs up when they’re walking through the door.
She’s showing him off by making him talk.
She’s putting her hand in his pocket.
It shows on her face, what she doesn’t say,
what she doesn’t say.
You don’t know me.
You don’t know me at all.
You don’t know me.
You don’t know me at all.
You don’t know me.
You don’t know me at all.
She doesn’t know that we know,
that we’ve been there before.
We always pay attention when she walks through the door;
it’s the clothes that she chooses,
it’s the words that she uses.
She says, "You don’t know me.
You don’t know me at all.
You don’t know me.
You don’t know me at all.
You don’t know me.
You don’t know me at all."
She’s trying hard to pretend that it’s not really happening,
but we can see her smiling from afar,
we don’t see her much anymore,
but we can hear her whistling as she walks to her car.
You don’t know me.
You don’t know me at all.
You don’t know me.
You don’t know me at all.
You don’t know me.
You don’t know me at all.