I woke up this morning feeling kinda icky
I looked in the mirror, found I turned into a hippie
I went to the closet where my black clothes were
Pulled out a multi-coloured jumper and a blue denim skirt.

This is not my, this is not my, this is not my — idea of fun
I think my, I think my, I think my I think my dark days are done

This is not my, this is not my, this is not my — idea of fun I think I, I think I, I think I — am turning into my mom.

And in sanatorium everybody frowned
Cause I permed my hair — dyed it light brown
Get no joy from none of my CDs
All I wanna listen to is tapes of the Bee Gees.

This is not my, this is not my, this is not my — idea of fun I think my, I think my, I think my I think my dark days are done This is not my, this is not my, this is not my — idea of fun I think I, I think I, I think I — am turning into my mom.

I cried so much I was so cut off
When the doctor said: «There is nothing wrong — you’re just growing up» [bad word] home and put on some black PDC
Cause I ain’t gonna let it happen to me.

This is not my, this is not my, this is not my — idea of fun I think my, I think my, I think my I think my dark days are done This is not my, this is not my, this is not my — idea of fun I think I, I think I, I think I — am turning into my mom.