You don't know what love is 
until you've learned the meaning of the Blues.
Until you've loved a love you had to lose:
you don't know what love is.

You don't know how lips burn 
until you've kissed and had to pay the cost;
until you've flipped your heart and you have lost:
you don't know what love is.

Do you know how a lost heart fears 
the thought of reminiscing?
And lips that taste of tears 
lose their taste for kissing.

You don't know how hearts ache 
for love that cannot live yet never dies,
until you've faced each dawn with sleepless eyes:
you don't know what love is.