Sometimes I imagine you listen when I speak,
Instead of eyeing me up like candy,
And when you couldn't have me anymore,
You flayed my flesh and laid it out on the porch.

Do I look young?
Do I look fresh?
Am I a lamb who's legal to touch?
Do I look dumb?
Do I look plush?
Am I a lamb who's legal to touch?

Now I go to meet someone new,
But all I can hear is this fear,
That they'll have me only because,
I've got these wide, large eyes,
With a slim, slender physique.