"It's not the hand that cuts, it's the heart we left behind.
It's not the hand that cuts, it's the hatred deep inside.
Five dollars and a head to keep, with dull black scissors and some kerosene;
You burnt down the house, but you came to bid him well.
What a thing to tell; 'put poison in the well.'
Just to say, just to say...
I ain't cutting my hair till the good Lord comes."
Five dollars and a head to keep, with dull black scissors and some kerosene;
You burnt down the house, but you came to bid him well.
What a thing to tell; 'put poison in the well.'
Just to say, just to say...
I ain't cutting my hair till the good Lord comes."
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