Why should I care
|
If I have to cut my hair?
|
I've got to move with the fashions
|
Or be outcast.
|
I know I should fight
|
But my old man he's really alright,
|
And I'm still living at home
|
Even though it won't last.
|
|
Zoot suit, white jacket with side vents
|
Five inches long.
|
I'm out on the street again
|
And I'm leaping along.
|
I'm dressed right for a beach fight,
|
But I just can't explain
|
Why that uncertain feeling is still
|
Here in my brain.
|
|
The kids at school
|
Have parents that seem so cool.
|
And though I don't want to hurt them
|
Mine want me their way.
|
I clean my room and my shoes
|
But my mother found a box of blues,
|
And there doesn't seem much hope
|
They'll let me stay.
|
|
Zoot suit, [etc.]
|
|
Why do I have to be different to them?
|
Just to earn the respect of a dance hall friend,
|
We have the same old row, again and again.
|
Why do I have to move with a crowd
|
Of kids that hardly notice I'm around,
|
I have to work myself to death just to fit in.
|
|
I'm coming down
|
Got home on the very first train from town.
|
My dad just left for work
|
He wasn't talking.
|
It's all a game,
|
'Cos inside I'm just the same,
|
My fried egg makes me sick
|
First thing in the morning.
|
|
-----------------
|
Cut My Hair
|
| The Who |
