It’s not for the man at the convenience store.

It’s not for the mail-man that visits my door.

It’s not even for the one that I adore.

I dress up with makeup to delight;

Three simple people,

Me, Myself, and I.

Yet; I hear a question, in which disturbs,

“Is that for me,” How absurd?!

Do you honestly think that I care,

How you feel about my appearance, Mr. Fred Astaire?

How conceded, how unfair, how selfish, are you;

To see me as the average Sue.

Sue, that dresses to impress, to gain attention and affection,

From any hard up Joe to add to her collection.

It’s not for the horny old man walking down the street.

It’s not for the playa that walks with a beat.

It’s not even for the one that I share my sheets.

I dress up with makeup to delight;

Three simple people,

Me, Myself, and I.