الأغاني: Dethklok. 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 ones that get to die!

One more year closer to dying
Body organs ripping, frying
Biological discordance
Birthday equals self-abhorance
R S V P Please
For the death of me
You have little time
You're running out of life
Happy Birthday. You're gonna die!

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 masturbate
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 DETH of thee
You have little time
And you're running out of life

Die-Die! Deth-day!
Birth-day, Deth-day
Die-die, Deth-day
Birth-day, Deth-day!
Die-die, Deth-day
Birth-day, Deth-day!

RSVP PLEASE
For the DETH of thee
You have little time
And you're running out of life


(Thanks to darkbl4ze437 for correcting these lyrics)