The Massacre in Norway

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The rhyme scheme goes A, B, B, A, C, D, D, C, etc.

Mommy's crying tears of joy, the years nineteen-ninety-five/
We're at the hosptial, the world's all new to you/
Your happy parents adore every tiny thing you do/
Then two years into you wander sprightly around/
As you learn new words to express yourself with/
And even though you tend to be a little irritant/
You're so cute, tender, little and innocent/
To daddy you're the worlds most precious gift/

Though you know that no one could ever tramp on what he's done/
Dad and you strive through a few conflicts as a teen/
That is coming to an end though, as you just ticked sixteen/
Which is when you leave for a summer camp for the season/
Where you try to stay involved in some political discussion/
You probably won't remember a single word of the conversation/
The only reason that it's at all worth a mention/
Is that pretty little missy you've got a critical crush on/

Blue eyes, brown hair and a gorgeous smile/
Dressed in a yellow summer top along with tight blue jeans/
A lovely sight that you're going to recite in your dreams/
She's a beautiful girl with a flawless style/
You two end up together, you become her corner brick/
In your relationship, you have both ups and downs/
But you stay out of those traps where the couples drown/
She's the one you wanna wake up every morning with/ 

Then all of a sudden you awake from your daydream/
The camp's in chaos, a massmurderer's loose/
Your whole world in snoozed, blurred out and confused/
As you realize you might not even make it to eight-teen/
Then you see it, those beautiful blue eyes are now empty/
The perfect brown hair is now covered in blood/
What you are seeing around there, nobody should/
Every second that flies, is now getting lengthy/ 

You're crying in pain, you see your life flashing by/
Sixty years too short, you want to see the earth/
Travel to exotic places where you'd be the first/
Get a satisfying job, a wife and a child/
But if that happens or not is not your choise anymore/
Your future's in the hands of a cold hearted man/
It won't do a damn difference if you hold up your hands/
Or scream till your voice is soar, he's closing the door/

The last thing you saw was satan's eyes/
He who's laughs when the rest of the nation cries/

So take good care of those you love/
Appriciate them, cause you never know/
One day they might be gone/
Yeah, one day they might be gone/
(x2)

Sixty eight bright futures were taken away/
Sixty eight loved ones will never wake up again/

Rest in peace...