Lyrics
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 to think of you
I might not give the answer that you want me to
Oh, well
Now when I talked to God, I knew he'd understand
He said, stick by me, I'll be your garden hand
Don't ask me what I think of you
I might not give the answer that you want me to
Oh, well