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