I don’t get it, I don’t get it, I don’t get it, 
I don’t get it, I don’t get it, someone tell me
We have all this brilliant technology
We fly to the moon
We clone baby sheep
But why must Jack Sprat’s wife 
dress like Little Bo Peep?
All Size 9’s are different, or am I a freak?
I’ll have to ask my shrink 
when I see her this week

And while we’re on the subject, she can fill me in
On the proper category where I fit in
Am I Juniors, Ladies, Women’s?
Am I Queen Size?
If I were a man, I’d be one of the guys
(I’m too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts!)

Now come with me to lingerie
To get a Wonder Bra 
(“For What?” you say)
I need some uplifting, my tits have been drifting
And Cross Your Heart bras make me hope to die
(Hooters, Jugs, Tits, Babaloos)
I’m overpowered by my powersuit
Some cleavage would provide a hoot
Unless you think the point is moot
But I don’t think it is, ’cause

I don’t get it, I don’t get it, I don’t get it, 
I don’t get it, I don’t get it, someone tell me
We have all this brilliant technology
We photograph Mars, and polio’s cured
But women’s clothing sizes have to be endured
This tragic situation brings me to the brink
And I’m running out of money to complain to my shrink

Who suggested medication on the first of May
To sedate me when I go to buy a bathing suit that day
But I said “No thank you. I’m going skinny dipping this year.” 

(Corinne: Guitar, Drum Programming, Vocals…Carol & Lori: Vocals)

Home | Site Map | ©Creative-Women.com