View From A Witness
I can still hear the screaming.
High pitched inside my head.
No one else can hear it.
I seen him, He's dead.
Gone but not fogotten.
Flowers mark the place.
I remember how he looked.
Mangled without a face.
I watched him as he died.
Comforted him on the road.
They said he was 74...
He didn't look that old.
And as his soul left him,
The light died from his eyes,
I knew what was going to happen,
But it still took me by surprise.
I stood back, backing away,
As the fire brigade arrives,
The neighbourhood gathered,
I'd never seen it so alive.
Although the thoughts disturb me,
And I wish I'd been at home.
I have people to support me.
I know I'm not alone.
But as the man lay there,
I know one thing for sure.
That I could never look upon that place,
In the same way anymore...
