I am six years old
In the back of my mother's car
And I will be seven in December
She will be gone by the beginning of next spring
And I will be left
to remember,
to remember
I ask my little questions And she laughs her little laugh
But she won't tell me where we're going
She looks at my eyes with her eyes in the
mirror And says some things you're better off not
knowing
Not knowing
I don't know what her voice
sounds like I don't know what her skin feels like
When a mother holds her daughter
When that mother knows she's leaving
this life
Leaving this life
She's left with that reflection
Of me at six years old
And I have her eyes in the mirror
Well she and I, we are defined by what we
Don't you wonder whose loss is dearer, dearer
She doesn't know what my voice sounds like
She doesn't know what my skin feels like
And I only know what it might feel
like When a mother holds her daughter
When that mother knows
she's leaving
this life
Leaving this life
And I don't know what her voice sounds like
And I don't know what her skin feels like
And I don't know what her skin feels like
And I only know what it might feel like
When a mother holds her daughter
When that mother knows she's leaving this life
Leaving this life Leaving this life