While some things change, some stay the same
And others of them grow
Into a waving mass of hair
Which in the wind does flow
But many tell me: “cut it off
Or I will in your sleep”
And while they’re right that some must go
There’s some I’d like to keep
So sadly yes, the time has come
To send it off in style
Into the clippings on the floor
Pushed into a neat pile