onsdag 28 november 2007

Birthday Dethday

Many years ago something grew inside of your mother.
That thing was You

You

You, You, You, You
Did she scream did she cry
Only those who are born
are the ones who get to Die

One more year closer to dying
Rotting organs ripping grinding
Biological disconcordance
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 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 one day they'll 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 deth of thee
You have little time
And you're running out of life

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
You're gonna die

___________________________________

Tomorrow it is. And I get up at 05:45, go to school. And then go to work. I get home at 22:30 at the earliest.

Thanks Dethklok.

2 kommentarer:

Annie sa...

grattis på something! happy happy birthday mr demian! hope you have a great one! and get some rest ffs!
:)

/Annie

Sandra sa...

Oh, så positiv du låter...Men kom ihåg: att åldras kanske inte är så kul alla gånger, men det är bra mycket bättre än alternativet!