Violets from Trad Wife by Pumpkin Mouth

It’s the end of the world
It’s the end of the world

And you know I’ll be in sweat pants
For the end of the world
Who could see it coming?

Lonesome bird
You are someone
You are someone
Whenever you come to it

You are someone
You are someone
You exist inside your grandmother
Ooh, your grandmother’s womb

Your grandmother’s womb is ripe with death
Your grandmother’s womb is ripe with death
She can make you whatever she wants
She can make you an angel of nothing

Your grandmother
Your faint grandmother

Your grandmother’s womb is full of violets
It’s full of violence
I can be who I want regardless of what anyone say to me
Can you believe it? Can you believe it? I

Never believed it I
Could not ever enjoy it 'til I believed it
The wonders of the world are
Coming to us soon, coming to us

Can I get to your alibis can I get to your insides
I can get to you however I like
It’s not the end of the world
It’s not over now
it’s not over now

• Alternative
• Maine
• folk
• rock
• unlimited colors
• Maine