Fight as you might with finasteride,
Hanging on to those follicles with the time that you bide,
But in the end it don’t matter there’s no getting away,
He’ll take those hairs by force, yes he’ll take em away,
When the Norwood Reaper comes for you,
When the Norwood Reaper comes for you,
From the bums in the street, to the folk on the hill,
It don’t matter who you are when he goes for the kill,
One swipe with his scythe, and you’re all out of luck,
Two more and you’ll start to resemble fryer tuck,
When the Norwood Reaper comes for you,
When the Norwood Reaper comes for you,
You try combing it over maybe no one can tell,
But you look like a fool with a tub full of gel,
So you finally give in and shave your head clean,
And on display for all is your big shiny bean,
When the Norwood Reaper comes for you,
When the Norwood Reaper comes for you.
So the first one.
