Luyện nghe bài hát King Park

Another shooting on the side. This a drive-by, mid-day
Outside of the bus stop, by and Franklin. Or near there.
Not far from the park. About a block from the other shooting was last month.
Or was it last

Shots were fired from an SUV northbound, Eastown
The target a rival but they hit the target this time.
They hit a kid we think had to do with it.

And I travel backwards time and space and I disintegrate, become invisible.

I want to see it where I couldn't it happened.
I want to see it all hand this time.
I to know what it felt like.
So I float behind police lines, the scene in fragments of memories.
I want to know what his mother looked like up close, I want to see her leaning his body.
So I float there, transcend time. I to capture it accurately.
I want to know what the color of the blood was spilling out the tarp onto the concrete.

I want to write it all so I can always remember.

If you could see it up close how could you forget how senseless death, how precious life.
I want to be there the bullet hit.

And the crowd poured out as the shots drowned into siren sounds, out of houses now
And over front yards, all the way up to the place where the police tape ran to the crime scene.
Everybody trying to catch a of what was happening
Of what was on between the ambulance and all the cop cars.

gossiping,
"Whose kid got hit? Where'd it hit him? And who fired it?"
wondering, "How did it happen again? And is he dead? These children. Our kids."
Everybody wondering how far they were where the victims lived.

And I them, their houses. Inside my dream I visit them.
My spirit, soaring high and high up over Park, leaves the crime scene, travels further back
Till far before the shooting, through their windows, to living rooms.
I see them younger this time, games and doing homework.
All these of youth soon transformed coldly into stone for fights and stupid feuds.
For ruins in gold. And cruelly I recall why I have come: To find a reason. But
cannot be a reason, not for death, not like this. Not like this.
Three days later they funeral plans. The family.
days later a mother had to bury her son.
Not far away the shooter holed up in a near to the highway with a friend and the gun.
That gun.
He immediately but was identified by witnesses, his picture on TV.
Only 20 years old, called him "Grandpa." He was older than the others by a year,
two.
And he was safe for awhile somebody saw him there
and notified the
Who surrounded the hotel, first arresting an accomplice while attempting to
Then chasing him up the staircase to the floor he'd stayed. He closed the door hard
Behind him, himself in the room.
They could've in the door but knew the gun was still with him
One he'd already used and so they what he'd do.
I floated up through the of a room to the West.
I hovered out to the hallway, to listen in.
I them trying to reason, get him to open the door.
His uncle and pleading, half-collapsed to the floor.
He of hope and forgiveness
said, "There is always a chance to rectify what taken, make your peace in the world."
I thought to through the door, I could've entered the room
I felt the of murder, it sthe earth to the core.
Felt like the world was collapsing. Then we heard him
"Can I still get heaven if I kill myself?
Can I still get into heaven if I kill
Can I ever be cause I killed that kid?
It was an accident I it wasn't meant for him!
And if I turn it on me, if I even it out, can I get in or will they send me to hell?
Can I still get heaven if I kill myself?"
I the hotel behind, don't want to know how it ends.