A hat is nice, a hat is good, when your hairline is receding. It blocks the sun, it stops the rain; keeps weather from impeding.
I got a hat, which is good; my hair is now seceding. It stops the burns, it keeps me dry, it helps how I am feeling.
It fits me fine, it fits me well, it sometimes makes me wonder. Was it made for me, or I for it? A man destined for a ceiling.
In the end, I do not care, what other people are thinking. I am the same; try to be fair, like a witch with a hat full of sky.