Well I ain’t the kind to sip on fancy wine That high-class sort of living ain’t on my mind Got no worries about what people say Ain’t gonna turn my skies from blue to grey
Chorus I might get up in the morning I might sleep ‘til the afternoon I might howl at the moon all night I might whistle a sad old tune You can think just want you want to think And it ain’t gonna make me blue You might know everybody But you don’t know me
Well the money I got in my pocket Just a couple of dollars in change I’m ain’t worried about the New York Stock Exchange Don’t need no politician Telling me what to be Telling me what to watch on my tv
Chorus
Well people might try to tell me Son what you’re doing ain’t right You can’t be playing that guitar every night But my daddy he once told me son You gotta do it if it feels good If you die doing what you love Then you’ve done what you should