Written by peter green.

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 my side 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




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