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
