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 matronette
that the show is almost over
Please don't tell the matronette
that the show is almost through
As the sky of English weather
Comes leaking through and I hear
That the girl I want to marry
Isn't here or anywhere I wanna wear
The clothes I want to wear I
wanna 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 teabag gently steeping
Wakes from me in Clapham Road
And the stereo is going
From the sound of Laurie singing
While the neighbors dressed in switches
cast a spell on me, oh my
I wanna wear the clothes I want to wear
I wanna wear the clothes I want to wear
I wanna wear the clothes I want to wear