Grandma Wants to Die (Verse 1) She wakes up with the sunrise, puts the kettle on, no sound. Ironed every wrinkle, but her soul is breaking down. She smiles at every neighbor, keeps the curtains white and tight, and when no one’s watching closely, she whispers, “Maybe tonight…” (Chorus) Grandma wants to die, she’s done her job too well. The house is pure, the silver shines, but her heart’s a sterile shell. She gave and gave, till nothing’s left, now peace is what she buys— oh, Grandma wants to die. (Verse 2) She raised a son, a daughter, they don’t need her anymore. Her husband sleeps through Sundays, his love a half-closed door. She still bakes the apple pie, and waits for praise that won’t arrive, and when they leave, she wipes the chairs and whispers, “Now I can survive…” (Chorus) Grandma wants to die, she’s tired of the try. She made her heaven spotless, but no one asked her why. She taught them how to serve, not live, and that’s her slow goodbye— oh, Grandma wants to die. (Bridge) She walks out in the summer heat, with pressure high and shoes too neat. The sky is clean, the garden’s done, she whispers softly to the sun: “Here, it’s so clean, you can only spit on me.” “I’ve washed this world enough—now set me free.” (Final Chorus) Grandma wants to die, but not from pain or sin— she just wants to rest forever from a life she couldn’t win. She built her grave in porcelain, with love that turned to lie— oh, Grandma wants to die. Yes, Grandma wants to die.
