Christine

When he was young, his mother used to say of him

This boy will be a girl, or look as if he should

And sure enough he did

Each night he'd close the door, take off the sweater that he wore

And put on a dress, his mother's best

And sure enough he was

Oh, Christine, tell me where you go

When all the lights are low

Oh, Christine, tell me where you've been

Who are you in your dreams

At 17, he did not make the football team

He was the substitute; he played the flute

While sitting in the changing room

And when the others were perusing top-shelf magazines

He'd be stuck in jeans, and wish he was Miss April

With the stockings on

Oh, Christine, tell me where you go

When all the lights are low

Oh, Christine, tell me where you've been

Who are you in your dreams

Oh, Christine, oh, Christine

Christine, tell me where you go

Oh, Christine, oh, Christine

Do you meet anyone there I know

By 23, he'd saved the money to become

A lamb led to slaughter; his mother lost a son

And gained a daughter

Each night she'd close the door, take off the sweater that she wore

And pull up the sheet; her size 10 feet

Poked out, but happy just the same

Oh, Christine, tell me where you go

When all the lights are low

Oh, Christine, tell me where you've been

Who are you in your dreams