Sometimes a lady has gotta man up,
gotta take it in the peach pit and march straight on.
Sometimes she has to wrestle through the fear,
when it’s worth the fuss,
but not me.
I’ll sit in this corner with my paper bag, thanks
near an easy-exit window, just in case,
eyes closed and huffing,
swear to God I’m gonna puke-
everybody’s got it easy
‘Cause if I don’t bolt, you know I want to, Jack;
I’m quakin’ like my jello-knees are done.
I’ve been strong enough to stand and wait in line
but it’s my turn,
and I’m a scaredy-cat,
and that’s all.