You get up every morning
With a follicular warning.
What you see in the drain isn't pretty.
There's a little left above.
And you push it and you shove it.
Well, at least your crown won't get nitty.

Your mane's not like lions'
And your encroaching pate shines.
Maybe it's time to shave what's left away.
And your mood is hardly buoyed
When you feel that hirsute void.
There isn't much left up there to braid.

'Cause you've been
Shakin' hair with briskness, every day,
Shakin' hair with briskness. . .flies away,
Shakin' hair with briskness, your head shines,
Shakin' hair with briskness--a receding hairline.
Falls out.

You wish that some kind of fission'd
Keep it from going missin'--
Use glue from hooves, which make Jell-O.
Get a hairpiece of kevlar--
Even bullets won't mar--
You'll do anything that won't let your pelt show.

Now your scalp gets overdone
If you're lyin' in the sun.
So it's time to go "The Apprentice" way.
If he isn't too annoyed,
You can be by Trump employed.
He'll show you how to fix it his way.

Then you'll be
Fakin' hair in business, every day,
Fakin' flair in business, for big pay,
Fakin' care of business, you'll do time,
Fakin' care of business, and head for Chapter 9.*