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 ones that get to die!

One more year closer to dying

Rotting organs, ripping, grinding

Biological Discordance

Birthday equals self-abhorrence

Years keep passing, aging always

Mutate into vapid slugs

Doctor gives a new prescription

Bullet in a fucking gun

One more year closer to die

Plastic surgeons fuel the lying

You forget why you came in here

Your mind rots with every new year

R.S.V.P. Please

For the deth of thee

You have little time

And you're running out of life

Happy... Birthday... You gonna die!

Now you're old and full of hatred

Take a pill to masturbatred

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!

R.S.V.P. Please

For the deth of thee

You have little time

You're running out of life

Happy... Birthday... You gonna die!

Die, Die! Deth Day!

Birthday, Deth Day!

Die Die! Deth Day!

Birthday, Deth Day!

Die-die, Deth-day

Birth-day, Deth-day!

R.S.V.P. Please

For the deth of thee

You have little time

You're running out of life

Happy... Birthday... You gonna die!

You're running out of life!