I know you think that it shouldn't still bug me
But I feel fat
And if I did less weighing
Then my belt would still fit
I'm breaking it in half

I sure hope that my stomach won't grow out much farther
I'm concerned about my girth

I still can't believe that they ripped
I have to hold my pants up with suspenders
I've got a huge wide flap for my back door
There's a draft, it's kind of breezy

Laugh at the way that I dress
And point out the fact that I can't bend
Say I'm tracked by the Hubble (1)
Giggle 'cause you're afraid that I might start a trend
Run everywhere screaming loudly, "Bend over!"
I'm amazed that we're still friends

Well I'm needing pants that won't rip
And I think I need 'real friends' not pretenders
Ones who'll fix the wide flap at my back door
Need a hug from someone willing

No need to beat
On that dead horse still
Given the time
All wounds will heal
You're talking trash
It's all in fun
You're still a fink
For picking on

My pants didn't stick to the script
Well I guess they were no match for my splendor
I've got a huge wide flap 'cause my pants tore
I'll admit, it's kind of cheesy

And I keep feeling I've been gypped
That's what I get for buying ones that hinder
So why not exchange them back at the store
Thought a bit, it kind of frees me

You make references to blimps
And say my club sandwich has its own members
Wish you'd shut your wide flap, can't take much more
(Don't) pick on me, 'cause that's too easy