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