I 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
Now, when I talk to God I know 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
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