My wandering friend, he might not be the one My dark-eyed friend, he might turn out Another of life's troubled, troubling sons But you don't have to cut your hair And you don't have to change the clothes you wear And you don't have to change So even if your future grows In tiny hands and tiny toes It's only half the one you chose And through the telescope of time Where every strange look is a sign Doesn't mean they'll judge you either way He might still be the one you choose And you don't have to cut your hair And you don't have to change the clothes you wear And you don't have to change You don't have to change, you don't have to change You don't have to change (but you have to choose)