It's a lovely occupation, why it's more a work of art
it's the basis of our building walls to keep ourselves apart
it's the oneupship upon the sea of hyperbolic flair
to make mountains out of molehills, one begins by splitting hairs
Let me tell you of this girl I know, her hair is kinda brown
that's just the kind of statement that makes good hair splitters frown
as it might be more a golden tan, perhaps a nasty puce
only arrogants would say it's brown and not be more obtuse
But your honor I might volunteer, who cares if it's a shade
as my topic was the owner, not the tinting in her braid!
"Yet you said it!" Judge would toss right back, "I heard you call it brown"
"And there aint no such a color on this black haired side of town!"
I confess I say while quite bemused, I may have jumped the gun
Say....I take it back, and call it black, what then, would you have won?
"It's a start" the Judge now leaning from the bench said with a scowl
"So that's it you little whiner? You're just throwing in the towel?"
But I.... (wait!) I thought before I spoke, perhaps this was a test
It was just a freaking color, now I'm on a lifelong quest
Yes, the towel it is your Honor. I just wanted to move on
He's Guilty! screamed the jury, Hang the Pseudo Paragon!
Just Wait! I stomped in self defense, You missed the blooming point!
don't you want to hear about the girl who's hair now owns this joint?
But they shouted me to silence and they waved their little fists
I was branded by my statement, chief hair color bigotist
There are times when I can take it, and those others I just hide
once my meaning's lost there's naught to do but shrug and say I tried
as I'd rather play with matches, or be duct taped to a chair
than to argue with my buddies on the charm of splitting hairs.