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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
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