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.