When my hair first grew out
They said I didn’t know you were a man
Spit of your mam
They would say excuse me ma’am
Nothing could calm me
Balm this gender burn
Even a worm will turn.
I heard Navajo trackers lose their gift with their hair
The windtalk that favoured then silence in the air
Anyone who loses it loathes it loss, thin strands like dental floss brushed across
A light ferrous moss around the ears marks his once-fiery mop.
Young guys with follicles to spare shave it close as death to soldiers
Ripley Fiorina 161 her bald head shapely as a boulder, looks no older
Bishop spills milk, Barabas and men of that ilk surround her like queenly silk
Newt and Hicks bit the boot off-screen, Hudson too saw his game over screen
Pour the lead, pull the lead out, get your head back in it fight an alien queen
Keep it long and clean, shapely and keen, washed freshly with lacquer sheen
Happy as a hashashin his Assassin’s Creed is his lust for weed
Green greed like Blackadder’s Percy, cut me and I bud bleed.
Alchemisland 
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