the bullets fly

Hear the hizzing sound

The bullets fly from higher ground

Hitting on the music goers

Many fall like ten pin bowling balls

The stampede to hide

The cries of fear and panic

As they see others fall

The red blood sink to the ground

Still the hizzing sound

The sound of gunfires from higher ground

The rain of bullets on the crowd

Many die and many injured

The police arrive

Sharp shooters scan the scene

The tears of many fall

The deaths on the ground

The shooter kills himself

When he has killed many

He isn't poor or in debts

The authority finding clues

In US stop selling guns in public

Banned it completely to avoid the carnage

But do the Americans listen at all?

The more deaths will come if they don't