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