Every year I get older,
always marked by the same date,
but this year I'm feeling colder,
lacking heat even with my hate.

Every year I get older,
I'll be dead in years by this rate,
and there's so much weight on each shoulder,
have I just shown up to life too late?

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to,
we've got no social games, so what else would I do?
It's my party and I'll die if I want to,
"It's all downhill from here" oh god, was that true.

You know it's just my mannerism,
to have an annual aneurysm.
You know I was never one for optimism,
so here's my annual aneurysm.

Every year I get older,
that's just humans fault and fate,
and we all get bitter and bolder,
well, maybe that's up for debate.

You know it's just my mannerism,
to have an annual aneurysm.
I was never good at criticism,
so here's my annual aneurysm.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to,
tears change my eyes from green to blue.
It's my party and I'll die if I want to,
just 'cause I'm growing doesn't mean that I grew.

Too many beautiful hearts are broken,
why do they throw our hearts away?
Like a shotgun blast in a house of glass,
the shattered pieces make it hard to sleep.
Those memories that we can't delete
so we go over them again and again with
droplets of sadness jumping off both cheeks
searching to find that happiness again.
Even though it isn't the end of you or me
how can I trust that I won't be shattered?
After I gave you all of my energy and
it was like I never even mattered?

Black and dark like half-burnt coal.
Without a speck of humid hope.
Dark, dark slender piece!
Condition of my heart is this.

Heavy it is asa paper weight.
Obvious odium is all it gets.
Dampness exists. Only in tears.
Joy is absent. Only fear appears.

Useless heart. It lacks sentiments.
Visualises only the profane objects.
Alike a phony piece of polyhedron.
Black & White -- the only shades in its spectrum.

It was brisk and vivid. Happy and humid.
Pure crimsoune flowed along the good deeds.
But now it's a spectre - wretched and mechanical.
Asphalt river it its . Odious and ordeal.

Its operation has become so tedious.
Its functions - corrupt and nefarious.
Love? It has forgotten this name.
The only player in a two player game.