Luyện nghe bài hát King Park

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

Shots were fired from an SUV northbound, Eastown
The target a but they didn't hit the target this time.
They hit a kid we had nothing to do with it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I visit them, their houses. Inside my I visit them.
My spirit, soaring high and high up over King Park, leaves the crime scene, further back
Till far before the shooting, their windows, to their living rooms.
I see them younger this time, games and doing homework.
All these marks of youth soon transformed coldly into for fights and stupid feuds.
For ruins wrapped in gold. And cruelly I recall why I have come: To a reason. But
There cannot be a reason, not for death, not this. Not like this.
Three days later they made plans. The family.
Three days later a mother had to her son.
Not far away the shooter up in a hotel near to the highway with a friend and the gun.
That gun.
He fled immediately but was by witnesses, his picture on TV.
20 years old, they called him "Grandpa." He was older than the others by a year,
two.
And he was for awhile until somebody saw him there
and the authorities
Who surrounded the hotel, first arresting an accomplice while to flee
Then chasing him up the staircase to the floor where he'd stayed. He closed the door
Behind him, himself in the room.
could've kicked in the door but knew the gun was still with him
One already used and so they feared what he'd do.
I floated up through the of a room to the West.
I hovered out to the hallway, tried to 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 you've taken, make your in the world."
I thought to slip the door, I could've entered the room
I felt the of murder, it sthe earth to the core.
Felt the world was collapsing. Then we heard him speak
"Can I still get into heaven if I myself?
Can I get into heaven if I kill myself?
Can I ever be forgiven 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 get into heaven if I kill myself?"
I the hotel behind, don't want to know how it ends.