the shirt

Lyrics

as i walked into the charity store, i saw a second-hand shirt hangin' up by the door, the collar was frayed, there was a stain on the cuff, caused by ketchup or blood or some such stuff, it wasn't made of polyester or nylon, the label said "made in the uk" so i tried it on, and i looked in the mirror and declared, "i like this shirt, i want it", it's not the label on the shirt that you wear, it's the way that you wear it, they say it's style and breeding and culture that counts, but you can't change good taste on the expense account, and if design or fashion makes you a hero, you can dress all highbrow but still be an emotional zero, but i declare "it's not the shirt you wear, it's the way that you wear it", i was looking for danger, i should have taken more care, i was dressed to kill, i felt so debonair, wild expectations, arrogant air, then i walked into that bar, she was standing there, i walked over with all my savoir fair, and she said "you're a smart looking dude, but your character's ugly, it clashes with my shoes, and i, i can't stand your attitude", i assumed it was leading to a romantic interlude, i thought my conquest was made, but i was stunned by the magnitude, of her ingratitude, i spent a good thirty bucks on this babe, like the shirt i was wearing, this romantic affair was not destined to last, the harder i tried, the louder she laughed, i was reduced to despair, my emotions laid bare, she knew i was hurt, made me feel like a jerk, i was humbled, humiliated, castrated, my masculinity dragged through the dirt, then thrown in the air to be devoured by the lions, the vultures, the jackals and all the scavengers of love, i was strutting around with my chest stuck out, like a peacock preparing to get laid, thought i looked cool but she put me down, she said "you look like a clown on a circus parade", still the shirt has class, it looks well made, she was a babe of the first degree, she was totally fantabulous, like a goddess from greece and yet, the epitome of the 20th century femininity, she was in her own league, she was meant for me, it was destiny, like adam and eve, synchronisity, she brought out the testosterone in me, last time i saw that babe she was smiling contentedly, now i'm trapped on this murder rap, a mistaken identity, it wasn't me, it wasn't me, it wasn't me, now this cop says "it's up to you, death row or solitude, crime of passion, you should plead 'insane', you say you wouldn't lie, but we've just blown your alibi, we've found your shirt and it's got a blood stain", it was the shirt you were wearing, it was the shirt you were wearing