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