You call out to us with horrible names,
like b!tch and b@stard,
we hate those games.
Be very careful who you do that to,
for one day a bullet may choose you.
You laughed and spat in our hair,
and we acted like we didn't care.
You kept it up with those horrid jokes,
so what if we wear black trench coats?
You died from my gun that day,
then you had nothing to say.
There will be no more teasing from you,
your friends will realize they're through.
No more looks of hate and dread,
when I put the gun up to my head.
My finger upon the trigger I see,
my fate sealed,
in Hell I will be.
