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..