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