From the Hip

This one's from the hip

Oh mother you have sorely misjudged me

It should have been whipped out of me

Without a father I figured I

Yes, I concluded then that I'm not for spitting on

This one's from the hip

My love I should have warned you about me

It never got whipped out of me

Me and my modesty and mother

Your wretched son won't take his medicine

Not I

I don't care anymore

I'm sick and I'm tired

And I don't care anymore

This one's from the hip

Why should I know why, it's a wicked world

I've had it up to here

Sweet Jesus I should have warned you about me

It's sure to end in tears and misery

Without a father I figured I

Yes, I concluded then that I'm not for spitting on

Not I

I don't care anymore

I'm sick and I'm tired

And I don't care anymore

This one's from the hip

Yeah, from the hip

Woah, it's a wicked world

Why should I know? why should I care?

Who's telling me what I should wear?

Mother, your wretched son is hooked on his medicine

Mother, your wretched son is hooked on his medicine

Yeah, I don't care anymore

I'm sick and I'm tired

And I don't care anymore

No, yeah, I don't care anymore

Sick and tired, and I don't care anymore

This one's from the hip

Why should I know why, it's a wicked world