Your mother, she taught you the stars and their shapes
She passed down the stories that gave them their names
The heroes and heathens, their victories and crimes
Still echo from heaven, they call down through time

There on the porch that your grandfather built
Singing the songs that his grandmother sang
There's a creak in the stairs and it sounds like the family name

The last of the apple trees died in the cold
A 30-strong orchard, guess that’s how it goes
A honeycrisp high court, a call made in haste
A rot from the inside, a slow fall from grace

Now you're swinging in fights that your father has lost
Bruising your knuckles and pride all the same
Now there's blood in your mouth and it tastes like the family name

Tangled in the ties that bind, they stretch across the great divide
To hold you close
Tired prayers and lullabies and all the sins you tried to hide
And all the hope you never chose

Oh, forget-me-nots and columbines
The willow trees and kudzu vines
You never forge a path on your own
Oh, we reap the things our ancestors sowed

It’s there in the songs that she taught you to sing
And there in the bruises, it's harsh, it's the same
It's the love and the fights, all the sorrow and pride, all the joy and the pain
It's the Sun on your skin and it feels like the family name