Birthday Dethday

Many years ago today something grew inside of your mother
 That thing was you
 You
 You, you, you, you
 Did she scream? Did she cry?
 Only those that are born are the ones that get to die
 One more year closer to dying
 Rotting organs ripping grinding
 Biological discordance
 Birthday equals self abhorrence
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 Years keep passing aging always
 Mutate into vapid slugs
 Doctor gives a new perscription
 Bullet in a fucking gun
 One more year closer to dying
 Plastic surgeons fuel the lying
 You forget why you came in here
 Your mind rots with every new year
 Rsvp please
 For the deth of thee
 You have little time
 And you're running out of life
 Happy birthday
 You're gonna die
 ♪
 Now you're old and full of hatred
 Take a pill to masturbated
 Children point to you and scream
 Because they will become that thing
 One more year of further suffering
 There's no point of fucking bluffing
 Open up your dethday present
 It's a box of fucking nothing
 Rsvp please
 For the death of thee
 You have little time
 And you're running out of life
 Happy birthday
 You're gonna die
 ♪
 Die, die
 Dethday
 Birthday
 Dethday
 Die, die
 Dethday
 Birthday
 Dethday
 ♪
 Rsvp please
 For the death of thee
 You have little time
 And you're running out of life
 Happy birthday
 You're gonna die
 You're running out of life