| It was 10 am when he got to his house
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| Heard the door open mid waffle in his kid’s mouth
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| Then his family’s at the table gathered in a group hug
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| His wife’s crying as she held them tightly with a true love
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| He shook his head a couple times with his mouth tight
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| Thinking 'bout the worst thing he’d ever seen, it’s not right
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| Seem like yesterday was forever ago, them sirens singing
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| He’ll always remember when those phones were ringing
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| Broken glass everywhere
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| Gun powder in the nightclub air
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| Glass shattered like hopes and dreams
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| As the disco ball spun a shard with gleam
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| Blood thick like mud
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| Metallic copper how the smell tasted
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| Body after body and the congregations of shell casings
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| Pine glass fresh drinks all shattered on the floor
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| A bunch of lasers hit his uniform as he stepped through the door
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| But the sound, the sound was the worst
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| It wasn’t silent like one might have expected at first
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| Nobody was talking, speakers buzzing, electronic whispers
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| All he heard were phones ringing, frightened sisters
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| Fathers, mothers, brothers, lovers, significant others
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| Brains on the dance floor, the tiles all covered
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| But the cell phones glowing and the pockets still calling
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| Seen so many crime scenes, but this one was appalling
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| The horrid smell hit his throat, it made him nearly vomit
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| The moment that he saw it, wished that he had never saw it
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| The TV still was on
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| Years later, he’d still remember how that TV still was on
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| The ringtone cacophony, the requiem, the love song
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| Boot prints in the blood swamp
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| These memories still do linger
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| As he reached down with two fingers to check a pulse
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| And right as his fingers touched her neck, the phone went off |