If a vision of spring was created by hand
You would find it appear in the hand of a tiny man
He would hold a tiny clementine within his palm
And would promise to do it no harm.
Unfortunately the surface of a fruit so delicate
Was damaged and bruised,
Left broken and confused
Wondering how it could ever thrive alone,
If spring forgot about clementines, where would they go?
A clementine should never be left with someone too weak,
Because the first layer must be peeled, week by week
Underneath this peel, this other skin
Revealed a tiny blonde girl stuck within
With a mighty fringe and powerful grin
Put on her war paint: leather, a bandana, or a strong glass of gin.
The things you’ll find about a clementine is that the juice is sour,
But if you handle the initial rejection, you’ll find out this clementine actually likes flowers.