Sheets of ice fall to the dirt as I pull you from your window and on to the frosted lawn below. The holidays have us quarantined, trapped in our childhood rooms, retracing our steps as foolhardy teens. Buzzed on old optimism and a few light beers we head into the night. “U Don’t Understand” is pulled from the sleepless euphoria that comes next. The candied mantra slurs from repetition, slowly building the courage to spill its heart. Baby u don’t understand, we’ve been waiting to hear this.