The story behind this song
No zero on the end this year, no banquet hall — just her birthday. The crossword's folded to where she left it, the radio's on low and she's talking back to the weatherman, and she knows which kid is calling by the way the phone rings twice. She'll say don't make a fuss, the way she says it every single year.
She still keeps clothespins in a jar though the dryer's a decade old, still sets the kettle the moment she hears the car. The un-milestone years are the ones worth refusing to let pass. For the mom whose ordinary Tuesdays are the gold — one more year of her voice down the line, and a hundred more exactly like this one would be plenty.
Lyrics
But it's you — so it is
You talk back to the weatherman like he can hear
You know which kid is calling by the way the phone rings twice
And you'll say don't make a fuss — you say it every year
They're the ones I'd miss the most
Another year of your voice down the line
No zero on the end, no hall, no big to-do
Just another year of you
And I'd take a hundred more exactly like this one
Still set the kettle when you hear my car
The smell of your kitchen on a Sunday could undo me in a word
Some things don't need a milestone to be gold
They're the ones I'd miss the most
Another year of your voice down the line
No zero on the end, no hall, no big to-do
Just another year of you
And I'd take a hundred more exactly like this one
With you humming at the sink
So I'm not waiting for the big ones, Mama
I'm celebrating now
Another year of your voice down the line
No zero on the end, no hall, no big to-do
Just another year of you
And I'd take a hundred more exactly like this one
Go on — make a fuss of you for once
Write your own
Someone in your life deserves a song like this
Tell us about them. We turn your story into a song they’ll play until they cry — then play again. Yours in 24–48 hours.
Create your songMore birthday songs
