Love is hairy, stubbly stuff shave all week, it's never enough
whether I shave it or slather on Nair, whack it or hack it, will always be there
Keeps coming back as much as you crop it, waxing and chemicals can’t even stop it
try to ignore it, the nubs comes in thick,even my eyebrows,a uni-brow chick
Sitting there pondering love and love's looks,flippin’ through Cosmo and metrosex books
Beauty is bare in my favorite rag, nary a hairy or haggard old nag
Eyebrows are separate and carefully arched, Lips are injected and never seem parched.
Legs are butt smooth, and so are are the pits, Love is not given to hairy chick fits
Speaking of nares,mine is exempt,the nose and the ears are extremely well kempt
as far as the rest of me, something has changed, my hair and my love have been looking deranged
Sunday mornin’ rolls around but his razor can’t be found...
I call out his name and wait for an answer,his ditty bag’s gone could it be that dancer?
The one that he watches, the one he admires, could she be the one who's igniting his fires?
I’ve seen her there waiting the picture of grace, smooth, fair and agile, not a hair out of place
I sit on the edge of the tub shocked and numb,look in the mirror then look at my thumb
I eye up the woman whose not spent a dime ,on personal pleasures as though it’s a crime
My overgrown garden could not see the light,missed out on the sweetness of bare skin’s delight
Bought into myth and every girls hope,that she’d still be worth something without any soap
Rummaged around in a drawer feeling sick
through tears I lay hold of my old Lady Bic
Slipped into the shower, convinced he despised me
lathered and cried ,none of this has surprised me
He'd seemed a bit distant, preoccupied,
the more I persisted, the less satisfied
I should have considered my Love is not blind
his eyes are like sponges his vision will find
The best of the beauties the cream of the crop
as sweet sugar blossoms parade past his shop
I have an epiphany there in the suds
Time's never wasted on pruning the buds
Better to nip 'em if you're feelin manly
can't be mistaken for Charles or Stanley
Lord knows the time I've put in at Curves
not that he noticed the good that it serves
So who really cares if he's after that minx
just between us we know how she stinks
Let him go sistertry rising above
cuz if that's all he's after, it ain't really love
Making my plans to rip up his picture
wipe out his memory, no longer a fixture
I can't say that I needed nor much that I cared
much for the man or his laundry I've aired
When into my steamy retreat disconcerted
the voice of the man I was sure had deserted.
I silence my heart and put down the Bic
ease back the curtain and see my St. Nick
The hairy faced heathen, battered and worn
face kind of prickly, needs to be shorn
"What is THIS?" he demands, and holds out his hands
"Why, a worn out old mach 3, the triple edge brand
"I just CHANGED this blade and the thing's dull and rusted!"
"Heck if I know" but I know I’ve been busted.
Step out of the shower, bare skin drippin wet
"At this rate I think I’ll buy stock in Gillette."
I hold out my bic and smile at old Bones
"Would you like me to light your cigar, Mr. Jones?"
Leave him to his business which won’t include the shave
Love is stubbly,love is soft and hairy to the grave
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