When Memories Snow (Meaning)

When memories snow
And cover up the driveway
I shovel all those memories
Clear the path to drive to the store

Mitski compares memories to snowfall, something quiet but overwhelming, covering the driveway—the path forward. She shovels them away, not necessarily to forget, but to function, to go about daily life. There’s a sense of routine in it, a need to keep moving even as the past keeps falling around her.

And when memories melt
I hear them in the drain pipe
Drippin’ through the downspout
As I lie awake in the dark

Even when those memories fade, they don’t truly leave. They shift, change form, seep into the background like water dripping through a drain pipe. Late at night, when everything is still, she hears them again—persistent, inescapable.

And if I break, could I go on break?
Be back in my room, writin’ speeches in my head
Listenin’ to the thousand hands that clap for me in the dark

Here, she questions whether falling apart could be a kind of escape. Could she step away from everything and return to a time when things felt simpler? In her mind, she crafts speeches, imagines an audience that understands her, cheers for her. There’s a longing for validation, for a space where she can be heard, but the applause exists only in the dark—perhaps a dream, or a memory itself.