I want to wear the clothes I want to wear
I want to wear the clothes I want to wear
Please don't tell the matron
That the show is almost over
Please don't tell the matron
That the show is almost through
As the sky of English river
Comes leaking through and I hear
That the girl I want to marry
Isn't here or anywhere
I want to wear the clothes I want to wear
I want to wear the clothes I want to wear
Please don't throw my hash away
It's the black lump in the foil
Please don't throw my hash away
It's the only hash I have
There's a Greg and Tom still sleeping
In a flat in Central London
While a tea bag gently steeping
Wakes for me in Clapham Road.
Then the stereo is glowing
From the sound of Yari singing
While the neighbors dressed as riches
Cast a spell on me, oh my
I want to wear the clothes I want to wear
I want to wear the clothes I want to wear