You Wear Death Well

How many times have I told you, over and over again,
That your coat does not match your eyes?
How many times have I told you, throw it in the bin,
[and] That you would look better after you die?

Your abusive words, don't match your shoes.
You're such a jerk.
Your hair says you're not ready to lose,
[but] You're so insecure.

I've had enough of your mismatched clothes and acts,
I can't take it anymore.
I've prepared myself now to drop the axe,
I have allowed death to come knocking on your door.

I told you death would match your eyes,
But you did not believe me.
I can't tell your eyes where to look,
But maybe now that you're dead you will see

That I was right that your coat doesn't match your eyes,
That it was putting me through hell,
That your mouth puts out equally hideous lies,

But most of all that you wear death quite well.