Oh, andrew jackson
Oh, andrew jackson
Oh, andrew jackson
Oh, andrew jackson
Oh, andrew jackson
Oh, andrew jackson
Oh, andrew jackson
Oooo
Jackson:
I think you might be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.
Rachel:
My name is rachel.
A wise woman once wrote
That illness is not metaphor
Than why do I feel sick when I look at you?
Jackson:
There is this illness in the end I need
To get it out
So when I bleed.
Ensemble:
It's not blood
It's a metaphor for love
These aren't veins
Just the beating of my heart
This fever isn't real
It represents how I feel
My pain transformed into art
Jackson:
If you feel like you might throw up
Well that's a metaphor for how I feel
When I dream of you.
Jackson and rachel:
Bathed in your metaphorical blood.
Rachel:
And when the doctor says you're gonna make it
I tell him why I'm able to take
Ensemble:
It's not blood
It's a metaphor for love
These aren't veins
Just the beating of my heart
This fever isn't real
It represents how I feel
My pain transformed into art
My pain transformed into art
But susan sontag's dead
So I guess her cancer wasn't metaphorical after all.
Sorry.
