There isn't much that turns these wheels
But there is plenty that can turn these heels
I think the sympathy packed up its tiny suitcase
It grew tired of my wasted face
And I don't think I'm lonely without it
I'm not much of a compassionate
Never was

Even the girls at the diner agree
They can see
Behind these black eyelashes
There isn't anything in me
That would make a man's
Cheeks rosy
I can't be cozy
I don't need company