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 bed-time: nine-fifteen   We snuggle watching Lucy    On our big, enormous   Twelve-inch screen      I'm his December Bride   He's father, he knows best   The 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