He's climbing the tower following the circular stair he feels like he been here before in the empire of the air he's listening to the top 40 on his pocket AM radio got a lunchbox with dum-dum rounds got a rifle got a rifle with a sniper's scope     and at the top         time seems to stop         in the stillness of an August haze     and as they fall         they all seem so small         so random and so far away he knows he's never come down again typed a note says he's prepared to die he feels lighter than a lightning bolt about to fall out of a clear blue sky fifty hits in ninety minutes fifty bodies on the campus lawn it's so insane who can you blame it's so insane where we all went wrong     at the top . . .