My Parade!

Dear Mom,

This is my parade.  It's my life, and I'm going to live it the way I want to.  It doesn't mean I don't love or need you.  It means I want to be an adult, because I'm 24. 

I found a little song that fits this pretty well.  It goes like this:

Don't tell me not to live,
Just sit and putter,
Life's candy and the sun's
A ball of butter.
Don't bring around a cloud
To rain on my parade!
Don't tell me not to fly--
I've simply got to.
If someone takes a spill,
It's me and not you.
Who told you you're allowed
To rain on my parade!
I'll march my band out,
I'll beat my drum,
And if I'm fanned out,
Your turn at bat, sir.
At least I didn't fake it.
Hat, sir, I guess I didn't make it!
But whether I'm the rose
Of sheer perfection,
Or freckle on the nose
Of life's complexion,
The cinder or the shiny apple of its eye,
I gotta fly once,
I gotta try once,
Only can die once, right, sir?
Ooh, life is juicy,
Juicy, and you see
I gotta have my bite, sir!
Get ready for me, love,
cause I'm a commer,
I simply gotta march,
My heart's a drummer.
Don't bring around a cloud
To rain on my parade!

I'm gonna live and live now,
Get what I want--I know how,
One roll for the whole show bang,
One throw, that bell will go clang,
Eye on the target and wham
One shot, one gun shot, and BAM
Hey, Mister Armstein,
Here I am!
I'll march my band out,
I will beat my drum,
And if I'm fanned out,
Your turn at bat, sir,
At least I didn't fake it.
Hat, sir, I guess I didn't make it.
Get ready for me, love,
'cause I'm a commer,
I simply gotta march,
My heart's a drummer.
Nobody, no, nobody
Is gonna rain on my parade!

Love,
Carla

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