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MY MOTHER'S HANDS LOOK OLDER lyrics
Artist-supplied lyric sheet, matched by title. The sheet may differ from this released performance. Production notes and alternate promotional cuts are omitted.
Read the lyric sheet
Intro
Her hands don't shake, they just move slower now
Verse 1
Folding chairs stacked crooked by the fence Potato salad still warm in the Tupperware She wrapping plates like she packing gifts for the dead Tin foil tight, corners tucked the way she taught me I'm watching from the porch with my phone in my hand Notice something I been ducking for a minute Her knuckles dry, ring spinning loose on the finger She pause before she lift the cooler off the table Used to swing me by one arm into the bathtub Now she grip the counter just to stretch her back
Pre-chorus
Funny how you leave and think the clock stops here Come back and the porch look the same but the people don't
Chorus
My mother's hands look older than I remember My mother's hands look older every December I keep saying I'ma visit, I keep sending money But money don't remember how she like her coffee
Verse 2
Three missed calls on a Tuesday, I was in a session She left a voicemail bout the neighbor's garden Played it back a week later, maybe two Her voice sound like she rehearsed being fine I sent a paragraph, she sent a heart emoji Sent three hundred, she sent God bless you baby Told myself that's love, that's how we do it But that's a transaction dressed up like a family I know her medicine cabinet by brand name now Didn't know that two years ago, what that tell you
Pre-chorus
Funny how you leave and think the clock stops here Come back and the porch look the same but the people don't
Chorus
My mother's hands look older than I remember My mother's hands look older every December I keep saying I'ma visit, I keep sending money But money don't remember how she like her coffee
Verse 3
She used to braid hair on the porch for three hours Palms smelling like Blue Magic and cocoa butter Carried groceries up them stairs, four bags each arm Now she ask me to open the pickle jar Tell the same story bout my uncle twice in a row Laugh like she telling it the first time I laugh too but something heavy sitting on my chest She smaller than I thought, or I just got too big To notice she was shrinking right in front of me
Bridge
I built this whole life running from being still But still is where she been, waiting by the window Checking the driveway every time a car pull up And it's never mine
Verse 4
Success without presence is a trophy in an empty room Plaques she ain't seen, shows she ain't been to Posting family on the timeline but I'm lying Last Thanksgiving I was on a flight to somewhere else She set my plate anyway, covered it in foil Found it in the fridge when I came home in January Still wrapped the same way, corners tucked Like she was packing a gift for the living
Verse 5
I'ma sit on that porch until the sun go down I'ma let her tell me bout the neighbor's dog again I'ma learn the names of every pill in that cabinet Not because she need me to, because I need to know I'ma record every story on my phone So my kids hear her laugh before they old enough to lose it Her hands built everything my hands are holding The least I owe is time, not just the money
Chorus
My mother's hands look older than I remember My mother's hands look older every December I keep saying I'ma visit, I keep sending money But money don't remember how she like her coffee
Outro
Call your mama Don't text, call
Inside the recording
Her hands don't shake, they just move slower now
Funny how you leave and think the clock stops here Come back and the porch look the same but the people don't
Call your mama Don't text, call
Excerpts from artist-supplied lyric files matched by title. Lyric sheets may differ from the released performance.