Catie Curtis Grandmother's Name
I've got my grandmother's name, but she don't remember who I am He can't sleep in the bed, 'cause every time she wakes him up: "What time is it? What time?" And she is not sleeping yet, 'cause she's afraid she might forget To wake up Is it morning? Is it night? She don't know, can't remember which is dark and which is light Is this the end of life? She don't know, can't remember if she's young or if she's old I've got my grandmother's name, but she don't remember who I am She used to live by his clock A meal, a wash, his Sunday walk A tick and tock Now she's so confused And he says, "what is wrong with you, anyway?" And she don't like to ask, oh, but she don't know what time it is or what day just passed And she don't like to say But she don't know how to get her clothes on right today Memory slipping through her hands Thoughts and dreams in quicksand And she cries again Dying a little by a lot Can't hold on to what she's got Though she tries again And she don't look in my eyes But she will try to make me think that she is fine She's more and more upset And I think she knows I've got a name she should not forget. I've got my grandmother's name, but she don't remember who I am I've got my grandmother's name, but she don't remember who I am Loved her since I was a kid, but she don't remember who she is.
