I hear them talking about me. In the hallway, at the Union building.
I think they know. There is no way I'm Jenny. Even going under the
scalpel, breast augmentations, puffier lips, and a "tummy tuck." They
become beautiful, I become Frankenstein, right down to the nuts and
bolts. My blond locks have just as much shine and body, my eyelashes
are just as long, but it's like they know. They always know. They have
radar. And I have an Adam's Apple. I can't ever be Jenny, I'll always
just be Johnny.
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