WHERE ARE THE MOTHERS – Lyrics

WHERE ARE THE MOTHERS – Lyrics
Title: Where Are the Mothers
Artist: Loui Crow
Streaming: All platforms
🔗 Linktree: https://linktr.ee/louicrow
📱 TikTok: @louicrow

🖤 ABOUT THE SONG — WHERE ARE THE MOTHERS
This is a spell for the mothers who stayed.
Not because it was easy. Not because it was gentle. But because the rage cracked their ribs and they still made room for breath.

I wrote this after slamming a door I wish I hadn’t. After softening a moment I didn’t want to. After standing still in front of a toddler tornado while my own storm screamed in my bones. This song carries the sound I couldn’t make in real time. It’s the scream I saved. The mantra I made holy.

This track is for every woman who ever flinched when she saw her own face in her child’s fear—and still came back softer. It’s a burial of inherited harm. A vow to end what they never named. A war cry disguised as a lullaby.

🔽 SCROLL DOWN for the full lyrics. Then come back up for the body-spell ritual and breakdown.

🔥 CROW BODY-BREAKDOWN — What Inherited Rage Really Is
Rage is the inheritance with no will.
It shows up as heat in the gut, jaw like a cage, throat like a blocked drain. It burns through the nervous system like it’s trying to escape. But it doesn’t want to leave—it wants to be seen.

This song carries the weight of generational violence that never got a voice. The “stay quiet” command stitched in our mothers’ bodies. The fear that if we speak, we’ll become what hurt us. And the truth that silence is its own wound.

This isn’t about avoiding rage. It’s about directing it. Into dirt. Into drums. Into mantras. Into truth. When the fire finds form, it doesn’t destroy—it clears.

🗣️ Crow Affirmation:
“I don’t pass it down. I pull it through.”

🕯️ Ritual: Storm Stay Soft
• Place one hand over your chest. One over your belly.
• Breathe in for 4. Hold for 4. Exhale like a hiss.
• Whisper: “I choose this storm.”
• Stomp one foot. Let the sound echo.
• Say the affirmation again, out loud or in your palm:
“I don’t pass it down. I pull it through.”

🖤 CROW TRUTH
The old war ends in me.
I swing the rake.
I change the flame.
I choose the stay.
And I make it safe.

🖋 LYRICS — WHERE ARE THE MOTHERS

[INTRO – whisper loop, ambient rise]
Where are the mothers?
Where are the mothers?
Where are the mothers?
I don’t betray the ones before—
I just won’t teach the same old war.

[HOOK – chant, mantra-style, echo layered]
My fire protects. My presence stays.
He sees my storm—and still takes my hand.
I am the end—and I choose again.
I scream into the earth—so he feels safe.
Where are the mothers?

[VERSE 1 – heavy, grounded flow]
Tight jaw. Tight step. Tongue like stone.
Learned to hush it down ‘til I cracked my bones.
Said “be nice,” so I folded in half—
Held back the scream so they’d still call it love.
But it burned. It moved. It didn’t go.
I wore that fire like a second soul.
Pacing the floor with breath like knives,
Counting the seconds I kept him alive.
Because I left the room.
Because I came back.
Because I slammed the door
and softened the track.
I don’t pass it down. I pull it through.
I rake the rot to make space for truth.
Not a saint. Not a storm contained—
Just a woman who stayed, and stayed, and stayed.
Where are the mothers?

[HOOK – chant again, louder, with harmony swell]
My fire protects. My presence stays.
He sees my storm—and still takes my hand.
I am the end—and I choose again.
I scream into the earth—so he feels safe.
Where are the mothers?

[VERSE 2 – tighter delivery, more conviction]
This is for the ones who ragefit instead.
Who scream in the sink and then butter the bread.
This is for the ones who left the room
with thunder inside and a body of bloom.
Who came back different.
Who came back soft.
Who broke the cycle, but carried the cost.
He watches me storm.
Still trusts my palm.
Because I let the earth hold the bomb.
Because I let my rage move clean—
So he could stay all. And I could break us free.
Where are the mothers?

[HOOK – chant again, with echo of each line after]
My fire protects. (protects...)
My presence stays. (stays...)
He sees my storm— (storm...)
Still takes my hand. (hand...)
I am the end— (the end...)
I choose again. (again...)
I scream into the earth— (into the earth...)
So he feels safe. (feels safe...)
Where are the mothers?

[VERSE 3 – long verse, voice steady, mantra flow]
I yelled too loud. I saw him shake.
That wasn’t me—that was the ache.
I’ve said the things I wish I hadn’t.
But I came back. And that still matters.
I stomp. I scream. I stay. I see.
I hold the line that ends with me.
I breathe. I break. I bend. I choose.
I build a world he doesn’t lose.
I feel the fire. I let it pass.
I drop the rage before it blasts.
I don’t want fear behind his eyes.
I want him whole. I want him wise.
I move. I cry. I don’t let go.
I break the chain they didn’t show.
I speak. I shift. I clean the mess.
I stay. That’s holy. More or less.
Where are the mothers?

[HOOK – full, with group echo, like a ritual]
My fire protects. My presence stays.
He sees my storm—and still takes my hand.
I am the end—and I choose again.
I scream into the earth—so he feels safe.
Where are the mothers?
Where are the mothers?

[OUTRO – chant outro, breathy, slowed, repeat and layer until fade or explosion]
I’ve raised my voice. I’ve slammed the door.
I’ve watched his face, then hurt some more.
I’ve felt the fire I couldn’t stop—
and still I rise. I choose. I drop.
I learn each time. I breathe. I bleed.
I give him what I didn’t need.
I name the pain. I change the sound.
So he can run on safer ground.
I don’t betray the ones before—
I just won’t teach the same old war.
I’m still becoming. Still unsure.
But I rage, I’m soft. And I endure.
I’m not a saint. I’m not above.
I’m just a mother learning love.
I swing. I miss. I try again.
I hold the line. I make it bend.
I stay. I breathe. I bend. I break.
I scream in dirt for my child’s sake.
I feel. I fall. I rise. I shake.
I learn. I burn. I don’t forsake.
I don’t pass down what split my name.
I rake the roots. I change the flame.
I hold my tongue. I shift the blame.
I come back soft. I love the same.
I’m not the hit. I’m not the bruise.
I’m not the threat that he must lose.
I’m not the storm that takes away.
I am the mother who learns to stay.
I don’t betray the ones before—
I just won’t teach the same old war.
Where are the mothers?

💔 Pain Point:
This blog speaks to the mother who scared herself with her own scream. The one who doesn’t want to repeat the cycle, but sometimes still flinches. The one carrying the war inside and trying to drop the sword.

💎 Soul Win:
By the end, you’ll feel the possibility of fire as protection, not punishment. You’ll hear the holiness in trying again. You’ll find language for what it means to choose softness without silence—and to scream in dirt instead of at your child.