The tone's so dark and velvet-like
And I sound like such a star.
I’m like a great big CD
Remixing Freni and Lily Pons.
Now that I’m a star, Little Matt,
The harder you book, the more my fee.
I'm singing too heavy by far,
So I go flat in the upper-middle
And cover my top notes
In imitation of Schwarzkopf
All mixed with Streisand.

Ain’t it a pretty voice?
Just think, those fans can all peep down
And scream way above where I can.
They can scream like the Fleming Flappers
In Paris and Salzburg and Bayreuth.
I bet they all read Out out there --
Those fans, those Fleming Flappers --
Where the guys talk nice
And the guys dress nice
Like you see in the all-male catalogs.

I aim to sing Traviata some day
And learn the notes myself
To sing all the high options
And take the E-flat
And to take all of them bows myself.

I wonder if I’d get lonesome for the Mozart though,
For the sound of critics praising “Dove sono”
For soft little high notes and scoopin’ things
And Cecilia kickin’ Bryn in the balls.
But I could always come back
If I got homesick for the Mozart.
I’ll sing Mozart one day, and Verdi the next
Then I’ll sing pop, and then I’ll cross back
When I’ve seen how to win them Grammies!

Ain’t it a pretty voice?
I sing so heavy and dark tonight
You’d think I was Fedora Barbieri…
I cover my top
I cover my top
In imitation of Schwarzkopf and Streisand.