When we were brought upon this world
It didn’t matter if you were a boy or a girl
You had to cover up, no ifs, ands or buts
The clothes on our backs became a must.
I sometimes ponder what to wear,
When to shave my face and when to cut my hair
Often times it’s to get paid, other times I’m just trying to get laid
By altering the natural beauty that I’m in,
Well, the suit don’t make the man.
So I grew up and got a job,
Flipping burgers for a hungry mob
All us workers we dressed the same and it might sound kind of lame,
But it was at that time a boy felt like he belonged,
And he knew... the suit don’t make the man.
Now you may have met this type before:
He sees a pretty girl dressed a certain way then calls her a whore,
Or he sees a different dude and says, “I don’t like his attitude”
Only based on the way he dresses and how he cuts his hair.
Well, I’ve worn a suit, I’ve worn a tie,
That don’t mean I’m some kind of nice guy
It don’t mean I’m bad
It don’t mean I’m sad
It don’t mean anything, it don’t mean anything at all
The suit don’t make the man.
Now when I am dead and laying in my box,
You might dress me up in a nice used tux,
I’ll have some makeup on, but my soul’s long gone
Just a big foofaraw for a dude turning into dust
A big foofaraw for a dude turning into to dust...
Just a big foofaraw for some dude turning into dust.