Wish I could be more less
Wish I could be less more
Underneath the dress
Is a gun pointed at the floor
Wish I could be less me
And a little more like you
I'd finally confess
To all things that you make me do
Oh I've been singing all I can today
And nothing seems to make me g**
Maybe the critic was right
And my work is just therapy
Or maybe she was wrong
And on the rag feeling slightly icky
And maybe I would rather
Just be on speed
Or perhaps it would help if I had the right
To get my sad a** married
Oh I've been singing all I can today
And nothing seems to make me g**
As in happy