[hook] My God, What have I done? [Grandmother] My mother taught me, The art of sorting pain. Assess and prioritize, Abandon what's left. Never ask for help, She called it triage. I called it love. And now I see her a little clearer, All her cracks within the mirror. [Pre-Chorus] And when I hear my daughter singing it, She sings it in the key of D. My God, What have I done? [Chorus] My mother sang in E minor And I sing it in C And when I hear my daughter singing it She sings it in D My God What have I done? [Mother] We lay awake in bed Me and my baby girl I'm seeing my daughter Inherit the reflex Of sorting wreckage Of severing weakness It cracks the mirror My cracked mirror It cracks the mirror And I see myself clearer [Pre-Chorus] And when I hear my daughter singing it She sings it in the key of D My God What have I done? [Chorus] My mother sang in E minor And I sing it in C And when I hear my daughter singing it She sings it in D My God What have I done? [Daughter] I see the ways she's picked it up So young The knowing when to show your cards And when to hold your tongue I'm seeing my daughter Inherit the reflex Of sorting wreckage Of severing weakness It cracks the mirror My cracked mirror It cracks the mirror And I see myself clearer [Pre-Chorus] And when I hear my daughter singing it She sings it in the key of D My God What have I done? [Chorus] My mother sang in E minor And I sing it in C And when I hear my daughter singing it She sings it in D My God What have I done? [outro] And my mother told me that she knew The day she brought me home The strong ones always sing the blues In a minor key In a minor key [fade to end]
