When I was six, my Christmas gift was a toy gun, an industrial replica.
There were garlands all over the house
I thanked Santa Claus because he was good to me.
When I was seven, I had to get another
Unfortunately, I got it, whose fault was that?
I became an expert in shooting by instinct,
Hearing the explosions was the only thing I liked.
For me, the future was at the end of my gun,
My dad had guns; we would shoot in front of the house
Empty bottles, like in John Ford movies
And as necessary, I even had the wardrobe:
Camo, rain boots,
Automatic weapons, revolvers, Uzis, hunting rifles, semi automatics, Glocks,
One fine morning, I shot the rooster.
I fought with a girl in the schoolyard.
Now that I think about it, it was really nothing
To avenge myself I planned an operation
Opened the garage, selected the ammunition.
At 9 am, we took our places in front of the school, me and my friend John, we waited, we drank alcohol
Lying in the bushes, I wait for the bell, one knee on the ground, this is serious shit
Driven by adrenaline,
I load the M-16
Rat-tat-tat-tat
I got my first victim.
John has the sniper rifle, it's like a game,
Hang on, it's a fire sale, you smoke whoever you want.
We are in Arkansas,
My dad keeps saying it's awesome, carrying guns, he likes action movies.
2 dead, 11 wounded,
CNN is talking about me, Steve Carter, 8 years old