Five little numbers running through my head,
3 got ahead of me, 8 shot dead.
Four little birdies native to the season,
Four birdies flew away, one without a reason.
Three little words carry quite a heavy meaning,
One in particular named after a feeling.
Two little children, seventeen and twenty-one,
One stuck in school daze, the other's life's just begun.
One little chamber loaded with one bullet,
Seventeen, the victim to twenty-one, who pulled it.
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