But Beware My High Scare Cut

When I was just seventeen

A demon bestowed haunted hair on my being

Now peaking from a lopsided fringe was all I was seeing

Who knew where these strands would lead

Inappropriate follicles for all my deeds

A do that wouldn’t do on top of my heed

In Barnet I went to see my crew

Ask the gang what in the world I should do

They unhelpfully suggested exorcism shampoo

Wrestling with my tresses every day

These precious ringlets of power making me pay

Never allowing for a parting of the ways

My locks were a stick up when I went to the bank

A sleek meek bob when I wanted to join the punks ranks

Spiky and a mess when I tried to offer any sober thanks

Though used to tramlines I still tie my tresses to the track

Let a high-speed train get them in an attack

Alas a rail strike sets the plan to strike back

Forever getting me in trouble this hair of mine shock

At Notting Hill Carnival getting into a dreadlock deadlock

Such cultural appropriation, I want to knock off my own block

Why can’t this follicle evil just bang or fade

Overgrown bowl head forever throwing shade

This buzzkill buzzcut straight from Hades

Yet one day I am cured by time honoured means

I now survive and thrive from these scarecut scenes

Bald as a billiard ball; saved by bad genes