lyrics (c) 1997 Jonathan Caws-Elwitt

    We wake up to a flaky frost dissolving in the dawn
    Our breath does cartwheels in the sky then nestles in the lawn
    And though it's a cliche
    It is a perfect day
    The days are eighteen hours long
    The nights are mild and breezy
    And we sip tea and play mah-jong and Scrabble and Parcheesi
    We walk up to our favorite view to watch the sunset swing
    Pink and blue publicity reveals a sleeveless spring
    And then it's summer soon
    We're at the beach by noon
    The months are always temperate
    There's just one week of snow
    It rains on Wednesdays just enough to make the dahlias grow
    The weeks are all hospitable
    Each weekend a confection
    The seasons chime within a clime of temperate perfection

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    Copyright © 1986–2008 Strangest Songs (ASCAP).