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

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 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 answer 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

But don't ask me what I think of you

I might not give the answer that you want me to

Oh well