If you smokin' rock cocaine
And some skunky weed
And that batch of basement crack
Caused your eyes to bleed
And your husband is a pain
And your latest album
Is sitting in
The half-off bin
Don't you stress
Tell the press oooh yeah
I swear to god I'm not insane
Though these voices in my brain
Tell me I'm the queen of Spain
And fly a horse drawn-sleigh
To a spaceship where I pray
To a monkey made of clay
And his name
Is Jose
Nonetheless Im not insane
If you're aroused easily
By a man's nasty sweat
Or you lose it on tv
Like when I stripped on TRL
Take a good look at me
I kept it together
Although my weight
Does flatuate
Here on out
Go ahead and shout
I swear to god I'm not insane
I'm engaged to a great dane
Fill my bootay, with champagne, yeah
All my shoes are made of hay
I work for the CIA
I invented Arbor day
I wear a hat
Made of bengay
Nonetheless I'm not INSANE