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.