Well, I went to university and I read a book or two. 
I can lard any conversation with quotes by Sartre or Camus. 
But being Simone de Beauvoir doesn’t get you very far. 
In spite of all the things you know, you’re better off Brigitte Bardot. 
’Cause no matter how intelligent you are, they can’t see that from the other side of the bar. 
Guess my entire education is in vain. 
’Cause guys don’t fall for brain. 

So then I think: I’ll be a rock star. 
If I start playing in a band, artistic attraction should increase my chances on a one night stand. 
So then, I start to sing this song, ask my girlfriends to sing along. 
But was it that good an idea, a band prettier than me? 
It doesn’t matter that I wrote every single song in this set. 
I’m not blond and I’m not blue-eyed, and let’s face it: I am fat. 
No matter how poetic I might describe my existential pain. 
Still, guys don’t fall for brain. 

So then, I wear a skirt too short and put some plaster on my face. 
What’s a girl gotta do to prevent the extinction of the human race? 
Apparently, I look interesting when I sit at the bar and I don’t say a thing. 
This guy comes talking to me, saying he knows me from TV. 
But when we get it on, it suddenly appears to me. 
Why on earth would I want a guy like that riding me? 
He’s thinking he’s the captain but he’s just making me seasick. 
You know, girls don’t fall for dick. 
The question is, if boys and girls are incompatible, how come the human race even exists at all? 
Why do we stand each other anyway? 
The answer is love, and I hope I’ll find it someday.