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letra de i'm not a girl - worm quartet

went to a karaoke bar with my friend coffee
in a small new england hick and junkie town
we mesmerized the crowd with our rendition of “i touch myself”
ordered up a couple bottles and sat down
there was this older guy sitting way across the bar
he was giving me a weird obnoxious stare
and i couldn’t really tell if he wanted to kick my ass
or if he just thought he knew me from somewhere

(musical interlude of doom)

he finally stumbled over (and) told us ’bout his catholic mother
we could tеll he’d had a drink or twenty-three
so when hе called me “her” i just assumed it was a tongue slip
that was courtesy of mister jackie d
coffee let the dam break and let loose a tide of bullsh-t
’bout his altar boy indiscretions back in the day
the guy just nodded drunkenly and put his arm around me
and said “where’d you meet this big girl anyway?”

my stunned brain regressed to grover teaching me ’bout “near” and “far”
and the latter seemed quite preferable to staying in this bar
so i deftly ducked and covered from the boozing loser’s grasp
wished him luck on his ambiguity and started hauling ass

i’m not a girl (i’m not a girl)
i’m not a girl (i’m not a girl)
if long hair’s all it takes to fool you
then you must have skipped biology, avoided sociology
and probably bypassed p-b-rty too
i’m not a girl (i’m not a girl)
i’m not a girl (i’m not a girl)
have you ever seen a female anyhow?
cuz if women looked like me, i think the p-rno industry
would be filing for bankruptcy by now

i’m not a girl!

i was at a drive-thru shouting product names at a speaker
(yelled) “just a value chicken sandwich and two pies”
(distorted response “thank you drive through”)
and an oxy-basted numbskull in a giant nasa headset
said “here you go, a large coke and large fries.”
i shook my head politely and i restated my order
and he looked at me as if this was a scam
he re-studied his order screen, re-held the foodstuffs out to me
and shrugged and muttered “that’s what it says, ma’am.”

was i s’posed to just accept my lot, and take the proffered swill?
for the mighty screen hath spoken, who am i to doubt its will?
i just told him “i don’t give a f-ck what’s on your crt
“can you even read it anyway when you can’t even see

i’m not a girl (i’m not a girl)
i’m not a girl (i’m not a girl)
how the holy h-ll can’t you see that?
sure my chest has got some perk, that don’t mean my nipples work
i can’t lactate, buddy, i’m just fat!
i’m not a girl (i’m not a girl)
i’m not a girl (i’m not a girl)
don’t you know about the birds and bees?
what in god’s name must i do, just to get this through to you?
should i walk around with my pants around my knees?

i’m not a girl!

my build is not petite, i’ve got awkward hanging meat
i can wipe myself any way i choose
i don’t need no medication to inhibit procreation
and i don’t listen to dave matthews

i get no joy from shoppin’ and you won’t catch me she-boppin’
though i’m turnin’ j-panese most every night (i really think so!)
when my sub-torso region’s ill, i buy cruex not vagisil
to alleviate the evil fungal blight (all right) (all right)

i was stuck in k-mart while my wife was trying clothes on
which is oftentimes a fate worse than a briss
when i heard a hobbling 80something woman from behind me
in a nasal voice say “miss? excuse me, miss?”
i turned around and gave the b-tch a look that could melt a poodle
in the hope that this would make my gender clear
undeterred she gave me that impatient retail shopper look
and said “excuse me miss, do you work here?”
what drugs does medicare provide to make one think that it’s the norm
for a dead kennedys shirt and jeans to be a k-mart uniform?
as confusion turned to anger and i felt the bile flow
i let loose a veangeful mad retort, the gist of which was…

“um…no.”

i’m not a girl (i’m not a girl)
i’m not a girl (i’m not a girl)
don’t you dare make me whip out my gland
i don’t hang with my friends in malls, i’ve never played with barbie dolls
‘least not without a lighter in my hand

i’m not a girl (i’m not a girl)
i’m not a girl (i’m not a girl)
i’m b-tchy but it isn’t pms
not a teardrop did i show, when they drowned dicaprio
i was still thinking ’bout kate winslet’s br–sts

i’m not a girl (i’m not a girl)
i’m not a girl (i’m not a girl)
you’ll seldom see me wearing pantyhose
go ahead an x-ray me, you won’t find one ovary
if oprah likes a book, i know it blows

i’m not a girl (i’m not a girl)
i’m not a girl (i’m not a girl)
…

(fade out eventually)

- worm quartet

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