A ghost from the past haunts your thoughts as you wake from a fitful nights sleep fraught with dread.
As the face disappears in the mist of your mind, it’s a face that’s returned from the dead.
The guilt of the loss, mixed with pain from the thought that to save them you just had to call.
But the mess in their head never stood them a chance, they were always predestined to fall.
Never one to deny that the black dog stands tall with the soldiers returning from war,
But the rest of society misunderstands the complexity facing us all.
There’s a limit some reach with the smallest of shoves, and it sends the mind into a spin,
So just look at a soldier and think to yourself, ‘Could I live with that guilt killing him?’
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