I’m not going to comb your hair

You are not my child

You are not my spouse

You are grown, grown, as grown can get

And you have the ability

You have the daily opportunity

To get up, get ready, and go to work

Now, let me be clear

I ain’t mad at you

I’m not bitter

I’m not running and hiding

From some bad feeling against you

That I’ve buried deep down

I think you’re the bee’s knees

And I just can’t figure out

Why you have such an aversion

Why you drop your head

And twist your lips

And bite your cheek

Every time it’s time

To comb your hair

But know this

I won’t be doing it for you