My hair, my hair, my beautiful hair
No one else but me seems to care
I wash it everyday
So it doesn't feel like clay
I was going to dye it a golden-brown
So it looked like I was wearing a crown
Then I was going to walk the catwalk strutting my stuff
Hoping to look pretty dam buff
Then my day turned horribly cold
Even though I tried to be bold
I spoke to a young lady named Tess
Who turned my hair into a catastrophic mess
My hair then felt like it was made of grease and sweat
And I tried and tried not to fret
I now once again wash my hair twice a day
And from then on I've been feeling quite gay*
