the who
cut my hair
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 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..