| Sugar is for suckers, tricks are for kids |
| Pretended that I liked it, but I never did |
| Spoon-fed, candy-coated |
| Take the f-bombs out of what you wrote |
| If you want the radio to play ya |
| Make it sweet like a cherry lifesaver |
| But they’ll probably never play me 'cause I’m not a boy |
| And guess what I can’t change |
| The sound of my voice |
| So get used to the sound |
| Of my voice |
| 'Cause I’m sticking around |
| Even if I ever had a choice |
| No, I wouldn’t change |
| The sound of my voice, oh |
| Too rock for country, too country for punk |
| But who said I had to pick either one |
| Tattoos at the Opry |
| I could cover 'em up but it’s not me |
| If I stick to the script when I’m talking |
| Sit on some laps then my song’ll go top ten |
| Nashville’s cranking out Chryslers just like it’s Detroit |
| But guess what I can’t change |
| The sound of my voice |
| So get used to the sound |
| Of my voice |
| 'Cause I’m sticking around |
| Even if I ever had a choice |
| No, I wouldn’t change |
| The sound of my voice, yeah |
| The only time I’m gonna be boxed in |
| Is when I’m six feet under in a coffin |
| Over my dead body will I stop making noise |
| But guess what I can’t change? |
| The sound of my voice |
| The sound of my voice |
| So get used to the sound |
| Of my voice |
| 'Cause I’m sticking around |
| Even if I ever had a choice |
| No, I wouldn’t change |
| The sound of my voice |
| No I can’t, I can’t, I can’t change |
| No I can’t, I can’t, I can’t change |
| The sound of my voice |
| The sound of my voice |