Murphy's Close Shave With Occam's Razor

Half a red beard lays on the floor The simple barber says, I’m about done A nick under the other ear. I’m sorry, he swore Forgive me these things happen my, son I’m confident, You did so well on the other half and you have the best intentions, my friend An optimist, I see with rolling belly laugh No a positivist, I there for must contend with a few quick flashes upon the leather So, by the spiral pole, you think I’m the barber Red drops on floor, too late to believe the nether Thoughts cannot be seen, no matter how you harbor Simply saying, what can go wrong, will go wrong as the devil sings a sing along, his favorite torch song