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!