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 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 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'
Well

Oh, well, oh, well
Well, well, well, well