Cmon they can't be that bad... In the mornin when I get out of bed; Yes in the morning whenI get out of bed; In the mirror there's a mop up on my head. My mouth is pasty tastes just like a shoe; My mouth tastes just like a dirty old shoe; And a mop on my head don't know what to do. I try to comb it but it won't flat out; I try to brush it still it won't do down; That bad hair blues it what I'm singin' about. Bad hair days make me feel like a jerk; Bad hair make me look like a jerk; So bad that I just can't come in to work. When I turn fifty I won't really care. Days will all be good I won't have any hair.