It's my birthday,
That doesn't matter around here,
Just another day of wear and tear.
Nothing special about my day,
Just another year older,
Looking uglier, heart growing colder.
I wonder sometimes why I was chosen,
Never will make much of myself, I'm supposing
On the eve of my day I sit in a dark room and wait,
While the man in the other room decides my day's fate.
All the years I let slip me by,
I know I did one thing right
Each time my beautiful daughter is in my sight
Forty three I will be,
No money, no love,
Just a thick waist the size far too above.
I will go to sleep,
With all my doubt
Perhaps I will wish for better if I have a candle to blow out.