Where we live spring comes early Trees in bloom when the northern country Is covered in snow A windy fitful day in winter Charging toward the Ides of May The climate now is cling to splinters We hold hands while we work and play And hope tomorrow is a sunny day Where we live men are women Women are teenage boys And everyone wants to look like them, But be like men Rubens would have loved you And painted you that way With your pen and paper, Paying quiet attention to a lady with a plastic face So thin, so thin she might blow away...