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Some people think I'm naive: they think I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve.
Some people think I'm green as ivy in spring: they never realise I'm doing my thing.
Some people think I'm a fool: they're fettered by their handmade iron rules;

But they're wrong, 'cos I'm free, I hang loose, and I'm happy being me.
That's the truth: hanging loose yes, and happy being me.

When Friday night comes around, I take a stroll to the centre of town.
Might drink some whisky or I might drink some wine;
Might ask a lady if she'd care to dine.
Spend Sunday mornings in bed: it never bothers me, the things I've heard said,

'Cos they're wrong, 'cos I'm free, I hang loose, and I'm happy being me.
That's the truth: hanging loose yes, and happy being me.

When people say I'm on my way down to hell,
Can it be they speak the truth? You never can tell.
So I say a prayer for those who get in my hair and try my patience.

Yes they're wrong, 'cos I'm free, I hang loose, and I'm happy being me.
That's the truth: hanging loose yes, and happy being me.

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