Inflatable Woman

A postmodern angel from the vanity fair,
With a heart of helium and a soul of air,
Some say you're bombastic, just a toy in my window,
And some say you're plastic, but they don't really know
My inflatable woman. You're beautiful, you're everything
And I love you for your mind.

I'm just an East Quaddie and you're so advanced.
By your rodomontade I'm enraptured, I'm entranced.
Your thoughts are fantastic, your theories are grand
But my friends are so stupid they just can't understand
My inflatable woman. You're a genius, you're ubiquitous
And I love you for your mind.
O, yes, I really do!
For your pretty little mind!

You're published in journals, you're interviewed on TV.
You even have tenure and a true philosophy.
My fears are deconstructed when I gaze upon your face
On a nouminal morning in your pneumatic embrace,
My inflatable woman. You're empyrean, you're egregious
And I love you for your mind.
You're my metaphor! You're my paradigm!
And I love you for your mind!
For eternity and forever,
Yes I love you for your mind! For you're mine!