I write so I’ll know what I’m thinking
“What’s Wrong With Me?”
Why have they got me in this awful place,
with padded walls, it’s such a disgrace.
Look at the way I dress and you’ll see,
there’s absolutely nothing wrong with me.
I dressed myself, and ain’t I neat,
check this out, we’ll start at my feet.
See, both of my socks are on just right,
blue’s on the left, red’s on the right
Sandals on the left, the straps are all clean,
boot on the right, camouflage green.
Check out the pants with the zipper in the back,
right where it goes, straight up the crack.
Get a load of this shirt, it’s Hawaiian you see,
I bought it last Christmas in Alaska for me.
It’s even got a pocket, thats useful you see,
I hide all my crayons, or they’ll take them from me.
So, now I ask you face to face,
should I be here in the damn place?
There’s nothing wrong, nothing needs fixin’
why, in ‘72 I voted for Nixon.