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The Columbine School Shootings
Tribute: A tribute to the pupils who were killed by Seniors Eric Harris
and Dylan Klebold - 12 students and one teacher in less than 20 minutes
on April 20, 1999...
We were laughing and joking as we ragged Matt 'bout his date,
He was trying to impress her but he still turned up late.
Then we heard the sound of "popping" out the library door,
Someone shouted out "They're shooting, get down onto the floor!"
Our hearts were pounding in our chests; we did exactly that,
We hid behind the desks and chairs; Isaiah, me and Matt.
They burst into the room and we heard the gunfire rattle,
Sitting in America. In school. The sound of battle.
The screaming of students, the manic laughter of a guy
Told me they're not fooling 'round, today's the day I die.
I heard them coming closer, they came right within my view,
Couldn't believe I knew them; it was Dylan! Eric too!
I closed my eyes really tight then, as if to block them out,
But I could still hear frenzied chaos raging all about.
I heard them talking to a girl, she answered no, then yes,
She tried to say the right thing but they shot her too, I guess.
Could hear the woodchips flying from the bullets ricochet,
And the smash of broken glass from the buckshot's deadly spray.
Heard the slump of bodies falling, heard crying out in pain,
Heard the cocking of their guns as they loaded yet again.
I felt I couldn't breathe, the sweat was pouring down my face,
As those boys were killing people, and shooting up the place.
My heart was thumping so damn loud I was sure they could hear,
The room writhed with cruel intent and students' helpless fear.
Eric came to where we were, and knelt down as he taunted,
He called Isaiah racial names; always I'll be haunted.
Then coldly shot Isaiah as he lay there next to me.
Dylan came and knelt with him, as we crouched down knee to knee.
He stared at us with killer's eyes, then shot Matt in the head.
My best friend's blood sprayed over me as I faked I was dead.
Right there and then they killed my friends. I waited for my turn,
But suddenly they moved from me, I felt my teardrops burn.
So I lay in my friends' blood, felt the lukewarm change to cold,
I knew we'd never be the same, no matter what we're told.
They'll tell us who; what's to blame; some inane motivation,
Some psychosis, some dark cause; some insane validation.
We'll never know the reasons why, and do we really care?
Two messed up guys destroyed our lives, and left us dying there.
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