I can't help about the shape I'm in

I can't sing, I ain't pretty, and my legs are thin

Don't ask me what I think of you

I might not give the answers that you want me to

Oh, Well

When I talked to God, I knew he'd understand

He said, "Stick by me, I'll be your guiding hand

But don't ask me what I think of you

I might not give the answers that you want me to"

Oh, Well

I can't help about the shape I'm in

I can't sing, I ain't pretty, and my legs are thin

Don't ask me what I think of you

I might not give the answers that you want me to

Oh, Well