Barber, get this mirror cleaned
I'm troubled by the face I see before me
As we shave our nations face, keep a steady hand
Listen to these words that soon will ring across the land

Wield the spade; ready the blade
Sacrifices must be made

There are many fools who dare propose imposing limits on my power
Those ungrateful who've been swayed by intellectuals in their ivory towers
They will pay for crimes that God and I cannot allow
Some before the firing squad, and some behind the plough

Wield the spade

Barber, get this mirror cleaned
I'm troubled by the face I see before me
Be careful not to miss a whisker,
As soon I face my people who adore me
As you shave our nations face, keep a steady hand
Listen to these words that soon will ring across the land

Wield the spade; ready the blade
Sacrifices must be made

Barber, you've done very well, much cleaner now; the mirror's telling no lies
I know I'm not imagining the telltale glint of death I see in your eyes
I can't trust you, so I must do something with my knife
It's a shame to lose a d___ good barber, but that's life

Wield the spade; ready the blade
Sacrifices must be made

See also:
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