Birthday Dethday

Emilie Autumn

Birthday Dethday By Emilie Autumn


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

Years keep passing aging always
Mutate into vapid slugs
Doctor gives a new prescription
Bullet in a f**king 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
Ah, you’re 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 f**king bluffing
Open up your dethday present
It’s a box of f**king nothing

RSVP please
For the deth of thee
You have little time
And you’re running out of life
Ah, you’re gonna die

Die! Die! Dethday
Birthday Dethday
Die! Die! Dethday
Birthday Dethday

RSVP please
For the deth of thee
You have little time
And you’re running out of life
Happy birthday
Ah, you’re gonna die

You’re running out of life!



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