I know his footsteps and the catch in his breath

And i know his laugh sorted from the rest

I know the way his hair flips out in the ends

And I know the freckles covering his face down to his chin

And I know the slight curve of his nose

And I know the things that no one else knows.

Like how his dog died when he was five

and how his grandma Dorothy didnt live to see him drive

And how he sings himself to sleep

in the darkness where no one can see

And how he gets right out of bed in the mornings

only allowing his alarm one fair warning

And its all these things that no one knows

And all these things that they see but dont give a thought to

That made him who he is