There's a park somewhere
maybe in new york maybe in paris
maybe in barcelona
early in the morning
there is the artist
the creator
with a small black beret
a cane
and a small back dog
in the twilight of his life
sees his work
and he feels
there stands the woman of his dreams
his love made in stone
time is so short now
she has her arms outstretched
opened
looking at the stars all through the day
and longing for the night
she feels
she looks up at the stars
and prays
i would do anything
to be a real woman
of flesh of love
and of that life i long for so
so the stars give her the night
warning her do not touch
or they will die
the next morning
walking his dog
with a cane in his hand
the artist, he looks up
sees a woman entwined
with what looks like a man
wrapped there together
he said my creation, my creation
that's a woman and that's a man
that's a woman and that's a man
my creation
that's a woman
and that's a man