You can never cut your hair
And when you comb it, you must save
All the fallen strands
When you die they will be buried with you in a sack
You will need them
To weave a rope to climb to heaven
To climb to heaven
I recall the things you said Jack-
Coming down the hill like brats
A vessel half full, your cup half empty
Listen here, my Jill you know that-
You can never cut your hair
And when you comb it, you must save
All the fallen strands
When you die they will be buried with you in a sack
You will need them
To weave a road to climb to see if there is any such thing as heaven. heaven
When I first met you, you were
So kind to me
Now I dont understand why your
Running around
Running around
Running around
With that axe in your hands..