You don't know this man You don't know a thing You come here with these horrifying stories These contemptable conceits And you think you understand how a mans heart beats And you don't know a thing You don't know this man You don't even try When a man writes his mother every Sunday Pays his bills before they're due Works so hard to feed his family There's your murderer for you And you stand there spittin' words That you know aren't true Then you don't know this man I don't think you could You don't have the right to know A man that wise and good He is a decent man He is an honest man And you don't know And you never will Not from me, not from anyone who knows him Not a morsel, not a crumb, not a clue I have nothing more to say to you
