Louise Erdrich - The Round House lyrics

[...] Digging. Digging what, a grave? Your father used to dig graves. I shook her arm off and drew back from her. The spidery look of her was repellent, and her words so strange. I sat down in the chair. No, Mom, not graves. I spoke carefully. We were digging up the dirt in your vegetable garden. Before that, I was planting flowers. Flowers for you to look at, Mom. Look at? Look at? She turned over, away from me. Her hair on the pillow was greasy strings, still black, just a few streaks of gray, I could see her spine clearly through the thin gown, each vertebra jutted, and her shoulders were knobs. Her arms had wasted to sticks. [...] She sat up suddenly, activated, like rising from the dead. No! Not you. Don't you. Listen, Joe, you've got to promise me. Don't go after him. Don't do anything. Yes, I'm going to Mom. This jolt of strong reaction from her triggered something in me. I kept goading her. [...] I went over to the window and was about to pull the shade up when my mother spoke to me. What I mean is, my before-mother, the one who could tell me what to do, she spoke to me.