Foundation of Bone

Family memory

Ania's slow-burning anthem about building yourself from the ground up.

Lyrics

Transcribed from the recording — close to the song, but not always word-perfect.

Sun hits the pie and the cast iron pan
I've got the hunger that a girl barely can
Tear down a biscuit, clear out the bowl
Harvest in the flavor to feed the soul
But the floorboards grown with every new day
The girl in the mirror is drifting away
She's getting too big for the frame on the wall
Losing the room for the pantry hall
Oh, the more that I feel the less space I own
A mountain of gray on a foundation of bone
If I get too big for jars on the shelf
I lose the last bit of my own hollow self
The hunger is a ghost that won't let go
And the garden I reap is the limit I know
And the garden I reap is the limit I know
The mason jars sit in a row on the bench
Nothing can quiet this deep-seated wrench
Every last pickle and plum that I find
Is leaving a part of the person behind
I'm pushing the threshold, I'm hitting the gate
Too much of the harvest is too heavy a way
If I reach the size where the cupboard goes
It's dry, I'll be a girl with nowhere to fly
Oh, the more that I feel the less space I own
A mountain of gray on a foundation of bone
If I get too big for jars on the shelf
I lose the last bit of my own hollow self
The hunger is a ghost that won't let go
And the garden I reap is the limit I know
And the garden I reap is the limit I know
When the pantry's bare and the harvest is past
And the girl that I was couldn't possibly last
Will I find the door or will I just stop
Sitting on top of a mountain-sized crop
Limit I know
Harvest is done