I know Seymour's the greatest

But I'm dating a semi-sadist

So I've got a black eye

And my arm's in a cast.

Still, that Seymour's a cutie

Well, if not, he's got inner beauty

And I dream of a place 

Where we could be together at last



A matchbox of our own

A fence of real chain link,

A grill out on the patio

Disposal in the sink

A washer and a dryer and an ironing machine

In a tract house that we share

Somewhere that's green.



He rakes and trims the grass

He loves to mow and weed

I cook like Betty Crocker 

And I look like Donna Reed

There's plastic on the furniture 

To keep it neat and clean

In the Pine-Sol scented air 

Somewhere that's green



Between our frozen dinner 

And our bedtime, nine-fifteen

We snuggle watchin' Lucy 

On our big, enormous twelve-inch screen



I'm his December Bride

He's Father, he Knows Best

Our kids watch Howdy Doody 

As the sun sets in the west

A picture out of Better Homes and Gardens magazine



Far from Skid Row

I dream we'll go

somewhere that's green.