| Shirin Shirin Shirin Shirin
|
| Shirin Shirin Shirin Shirin
|
| When Shirin cuts my hair
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| it’s like a love affair
|
| Let those locks fall to the ground
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| or let them stay there
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| I show her my passport
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| what I look like
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| But she just smiles and lets me know
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| it’s gonna be all right
|
| Shirin Shirin Shirin Shirin
|
| Shirin Shirin Shirin Shirin
|
| When Shirin cuts my hair
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| her mama’s sitting in the rocking chair
|
| She tells me stories from the war
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| in Iraq cause they were there
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| Shirin pulls my head to the side
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| but in the mirror I can see
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| a tear in her eye
|
| Shirin Shirin Shirin Shirin
|
| Shirin Shirin Shirin Shirin
|
| Your hands are soft
|
| your hands are soft just like silk
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| You’re a drop of blood
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| You’re a drop of blood in my glass of milk
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| Your hands are soft
|
| your hands are soft just like silk
|
| You’re a drop of blood
|
| You’re a drop of blood in my glass of milk
|
| When Shirin does her magic
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| to my frizzy straws
|
| Immigration and tax represantatives
|
| stumbled upon the lot
|
| But what if it reaches the government
|
| that you have a beauty salon
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| in your own apartment
|
| I won’t tell anyone!
|
| Shirin Shirin Shirin Shirin
|
| I won’t tell anyone!
|
| Shirin Shirin Shirin Shirin
|
| I won’t tell anyone! |