I met a strange girl
Who called herself a bird hairdresser
She hid in the branches
She caught all the birds
She had Cutted lots of shapes
Any way in their wings
With his sewing scissors
And a pretty little comb
And all the birds started
Flying a little sideways
And they bumped into the branches
And they even bumped into each other
Some crashed on the ground
When landing upside down
One of them in the wheel of a bicycle
As if speared in the spokes
Reminiscent of a headdress
Bloody Indian chief
No more hair cuts
For the birds
No more hair cuts
For the birds
No more hair cuts
For the birds
No more hair cuts
For the birds

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