The boy in the next flat was tall and thin

He practised his soccer skills in the hall

Until the day the gunmen came

Now he doesn’t need a ball.

I was in my kitchen

When the noise shook the block

I don’t remember the time

Maybe 8 o clock.

I do remember his face

Before the bullets hit

I found him and his family

And now I’m losing my wits.

I can’t think

And I can’t feel to smile

And I’m too scared to stay

So I’ve fled 5225 miles.

The Dr’s here tell me I’m in shock

They call it PTSD

What you see is a zombie

Where I used to be.