You Don't Know a Thing About Me - The Gone Jackals

You let me slide, baby,

on a sheet of thin ice.

Askin’no questions

and receiving no lies.

You speak to me in parables,

you manufacture truth —

my time is your’s,

just wake me up when you’re through.

You tell me what I do.

You tell me what I think.

But you don’t know a thing about me.

You read me the future

from the palm of my hand.

You plunge new depths

to remain in my plans.

You draw your conclusions

from imaginary scenes

and piss your confusion

into the stream.

You’re hurlin’it hard,

what you believe to be true.

But you don’t know a thing about me.

Last, lovely, night

my skin was bare,

the cool wind satisfied.

I stood at the edge,

loosened a wing

and braced for flight.

Long live the night!

Next of kin

had not been notified —

I soared like a bird.

The light of the moon’s

the light of my life.

I’ll tell you anything

that you’d like to hear

But you don’t know a thing about me.