Posing like a statue on the shelf
Oh my oh my how you adore yourself
Slowly strutting hear and there
Choosing in detail the fancy clothes you wear
Head held up way so high
brushing the clouds in the sky
Wide eyes fall upon you with every jest
Standing like a toreador portraying your chest
Furtively Glancing to one side
Smirking to yourself with such pride
Of course you believe to be so chic
But the truth begin, most people think you are a **ick