Tweed

Maybe I’ll get a haircut tomorrow
Maybe I’ll go fly a kite instead
Maybe I’ll act out all my bad dreams
Maybe I’ll give up and lay in bed

Maybe I’ll walk to Mississippi
Maybe I’ll drive to Santa Fe
Maybe I’ll take the train to New York and do the crossword on the way

Bugs are crawlin' all around me
Brush 'em off, brush 'em off
Spiders celebrate a surplus
And I have another nagging cough

Oooh the perils of the city
Ahh the dangers of the farm
Oh the pitfalls of the middle class are losing all their charm

Did you know what you wanted?
Do you know what you need?
No room for skеletons in these closеts and drawers
They’re full of sassafras and tweed

Oooh would you punch me in the stomach?
Ahhh would you kick me in the shins?
Well flip a coin, tell me what to do, and let me know who wins