| Skin is completely bald, he doesn't wear hair
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| Glaca glistens in the sun as if a combine is mowing
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| Peyos don't have skin, he hates ponytail
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| Arrrabi, Negroes and Jews fear him
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| Winter is the worst for skin every year
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| If he survives her, he doesn't have any hairs
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| Put the cap on, nod, put on the hat
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| When the wind blows, when the weather is in a pattern
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| You catch a cold, your neck becomes cold
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| Remnants of thought from the brain will blow a breeze
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| Mommy is knitting a wool hat
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| You put it on, it will nod when it gets colder
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| The wool in the head warms, the warmth is under the skull
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| And gray cells will not freeze then
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| Our skin was brave, he didn't wear a cap
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| He ran bald all winter and did not live to see spring
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| His head turned blue and his ears frostbitten
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| The skull split in half, the seams inside loosened
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| Put the cap on, nod, put on the hat
|
| When the wind blows, when the weather is in a pattern
|
| You catch a cold, your neck becomes cold
|
| Remnants of thought from the brain will blow a breeze
|
| Put the cap on, nod, put on the hat
|
| When the wind blows, when the weather is in a pattern
|
| You catch a cold, your neck becomes cold
|
| Remnants of thought from the brain will blow a breeze
|
| And now alone! |