When I was fifteen
I shaved every other week.
I thought I had a beard (yeah
I thought I had a goatee)
And then my father drew me close
And he said, "Listen closely, son,
Walking around with a face like that,
You look just like a bum,"
And so when I twenty years old
I tried real hard to grow a beard.
When I was twenty one, I shaved it off
Because it looked too damn weird
Because the sideburns were too patchy
And the thickness wasn't right
And my mustache didn't show up
Because blond hair was too light.
So I stood with the razor in my hand
And dragged it across my face
And when I was done, I must have done something wrong
Because there was blood all over the place.
It turned out that I had cut myself
In a perfectly straight line
Beside my nose, on my right cheek,
Underneath my right eye.
You can either look like a bum or a gentleman whose face is all cut up.