The Shirt Lyrics - Kinks

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" 

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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 

Photos 

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