not many there today to see him go

curtain opens up and away he slides

soon its back to scissors and comb

my specialty is short back and sides

 

increasingly I'm tempted by necks

a cut-throat razor in my right hand

so vulnerable with arteries bulging

I cannot expect you to understand

 

yet I'm no modern sweeney todd

its doing the embalming at night

the danger of double-jobbing is a

mild confusion about what's right

 

nightmares where necks bleeding

dreams of coffins stuffed with hair

that irresistible slash with a razor

headless torso in my barber's chair

 

once she shook her ringlets at me

defying my movements of desire

afterwards I shaved her head and

burned the cruel curls on the fire

 

alopecia stole my manhood mane

love was the word I could not utter

this neck is like a red rag to a bull

as easy as a knife through butter

 

he's revolting! he knows my game!

I plead a mistake, an honest error

these legs gone weak at the knees

now its my turn to undergo terror

 

in the coffin rests a head gone bald

neck stitched up as best they could

flames roaring behind velvet curtains

anticipating fuel of bone and wood