Same Hands

Описание: The history repeats itself...

Lyrics

She'd braid your hair before the morning light,
humming low the songs her mama knew.
You'd squirm and say she pulled the ribbons tight
she'd say, "I know, my love. I used to too."

By ten you wore her stubbornness like skin,
her jawline set beneath your father's eyes.
She'd start a sentence, you'd already grin
you knew the ending before her lips could rise.

Same hands, same fire, same need to be right,
same door that slams, same voice in the night
whispering sorry through the crack in the wall.
Same hearts, too proud and too tender to fall.

At seventeen you swore you'd never be
the woman pacing circles by the phone.
But there you stood at thirty-three,
doing laps around a kitchen of your own.

Same hands, same fire, same need to be right,
same door that slams, same voice in the night
whispering sorry through the crack in the wall.
Same hearts, too proud and too tender to fall.

You fought like mirrors, nose to nose,
two women stitched from the same bright thread.
She'd say the thing you almost chose to say,
and so you'd say the opposite instead.

Now your girl is pulling at the braids,
squirming in the chair before the sun.
And tucked inside a shoe box stars you made her,
wobbly, fading, loved by everyone.

Same hands, same fire, same need to be right,
same door that slams, same voice in the night.
But now you hear her in the way you call
your daughter's name, and you understand it all.

She'd say, "I know, my love."
You'd say, "I know. I used to too."