Somewhere That's Green

I know Seymour's the greatest. But I'm dating a semi-sadist. So I 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 can Be together at last. What kind of place is that, honey? An emergency room? No. It's just a little daydream of mine, A little development I dream of just off the Interstate. Not fancy like Levittown, Just a little street in a little suburb far, Far from urban Skid Row. The sweetest, greenest place where everybody has the Same little lawn out front and the same little Flagstone patio out back, and all the houses are So neat and pretty 'cause they all look just Alike. Oh, I dream about it all the time. Just me and the toaster and a sweet little Guy Like Seymour. 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 the 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 watching 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.