The clippers buzz from my nape to my crown,
clearing a path through the tangle of hair,
and the hair as it falls brings on a frown.
Whence cometh the gray that is falling down?
I shouldn't be vain, and I shouldn't care.
The clippers buzz from my nape to my crown,
and the shorn gray hair piles up all around.
I'm sure all this gray was not always there,
and the hair as it falls brings on a frown.
The gray has won; it's overwhelmed the brown.
I bet it cheated, just never played fair.
The clippers buzz from my nape to my crown.
It's best, I guess, that I am sitting down;
a good thing the barber has a nice chair.
And the hair as it falls brings on a frown.
Gray once bestowed dignity to my hair,
back before it became all that is there.
The clippers buzz from my nape to my crown,
and the hair as it falls brings on a frown.
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