Goodbye my brown hair,
may you ever grow on our heads.
You were the grace that placed itself
Now there's nothing there instead.
You called out to our country,
and you whispered to those in pain.
Now you belong in the sink,
and the stars spell out your name.
And it seems to me you lived your life
like a candle in the wind:
never drying with the sunset
when the rain set in.
And your bangs will always fall here,
among England's largest foreheads,
your follicles burned out long before
your legend ever did.

Loveliness we've lost;
these empty days without our hair.
This torch we'll always carry
for our nation's golden locks.
And even though we try,
the truth brings us to tears;
all our words cannot express
the joy you brought us through the years.
And it seems to me you lived your life
like a hairball in the drain,
never graying with the
sunset when the rain set in.
And your hair will always fall here,
among England's finest swill,
your dreadlocks burned out long before
your legend ever will.

Goodbye my sweet coiffure,
may you ever grow in our hearts.
You were the grace that placed itself
upon my shiny head parts.
Goodbye Head and Shoulders,
Hello buffing wax,
we'll miss the wings of your compassion
and we'll miss it to the max.
And it seems to me you lived your life
like an afro on Soul Train,
never fading with the sunset
when the show got cancelled.
And your footsteps will always fall here,
among England's greenest hills;
your candle's burned out long before
your legend ever will.

Come place your bouquets at this week's

  G   I   R   L     S   C   O   U   T     B   E   N   E   F   I   T

7th floor playroom October 31, 1997 5:30 pm