The story behind this song
She always said she'd eaten, and the kid believed her every time. The coat hung thin at the wrist after nine winters and she called it her favorite — her favorite was whatever the kids didn't have to miss. The quarters counted at the kitchen drawer were a game, until you grow up and understand that jar was the grocery store, the lamp at midnight a needle letting down hems so a child would stay warm.
Now there's a lunchbox of one's own, and hands that move like hers. For the mother who skipped it all in silence — every corner she cut, she cut on her own side. The table's full tonight. Sit down.
Lyrics
I believed you every time
Hanging where you left it, thin at the wrist
You called it your favorite — I know better now
Your favorite was whatever we didn't miss
The hems let down so I'd stay warm instead
The plate you slid across, the empty one you kept somehow
You made hunger look like humming
You made worry look like light
Mama, everything I never saw
I'm singing back tonight
Counting quarters at the kitchen drawer
I thought the jar was a game we played
I didn't know it was the grocery store
Every line crossed out was you, holding the plan
The plate you slid across, the empty one you kept somehow
You made hunger look like humming
You made worry look like light
Mama, everything I never saw
I'm singing back tonight
And I catch my hands moving like yours
Skipping nothing — because you skipped it all before
The plate you slid across, the empty one you kept somehow
You made hunger look like humming
You made worry look like light
Mama, everything I never saw
I'm singing back tonight
Tonight the table's full — sit down
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