A lo-fi meditation on the awkward persistence of memory through family connections after a relationship ends.
[Verse 1] Got a text from your sister last Tuesday Said your mom saw my Honda at Walgreens Asked if we're still together, still happy Three months since you moved to Eugene [Verse 2] She keeps liking my Instagram photos Double-taps on my coffee and dog Does she know that you're dating that barista Or just caught in her own analog fog [Chorus] Your mom still asks about me Like I'm coming for Christmas dinner Your mom still asks about me But you're already gone, gone [Verse 3] Ran into her at Target last weekend She hugged me by the frozen food aisle Said you're doing real good up in Oregon I just nodded and forced out a smile [Chorus] Your mom still asks about me Like I'm coming for Christmas dinner Your mom still asks about me But you're already gone, gone [Bridge] Someday she'll stop saving my birthday Someday she'll learn how to forget But right now she's holding both our histories In her contacts and her cigarettes
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