

But Grandma, it don't rhymeI'm living for the lyrics that you scribbled on your hand I'm living for the big parade and the marching band I'm living for the music that bleeds out from your tongue I'm living for the song about the night we almost won I'm living for the skeletons walking down the street I'm living for the princess that I have yet to meet I'm living for tomorrow and for yesterday as well I'm living for your heaven I'm living for your hell I'm living for analogies and metaphores and lies I'm living for your laughter I'm living for your cries I'm living for the music notes written on youBut Grandma, it don't rhyme
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