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In my last year of high school, I'd go every other day
To push my gramma's wheelchair, to get her out of that place
But she couldn't stand the helplessness, she just wasn't built that way
I'd ask "Gramma, how you doin?" "I just wanna die" is all she'd say

Let me go when I am ready, she told my mom on the hill
I might need you to help me, Don't keep me breathing still
I've lived a life of purpose, Long and light and full

Staring at the top sheet
Listening to my hearth beat
Wondering how to say it
Playing over one track
Wanting you to come back
Want to have you here

Lying on a cold sheet