Written by: p. green

Can't help about the shape i'm in
I can't sing, i ain't pretty and my legs are thin
But don't ask me what i think of you
I might not give the answer that you want me to
Oh well

When i talked to god, i knew he'd understand
He said stick by me and i'll be your guiding hand
But don't ask me what i think of you
I might not give the answer that you want me to
Oh well