I thought I seen his face today,
But it was gone to some place between time and space.
Into the vast infinite skyline where the upper echelons wine and dine.

His soft brown hair flopped here and there,
As he used to declare his love for the fresh British air.
His black European eyes would stare into the clouds telling me that one day he’d take me there.

Whatever was hidden underneath the façade, it was hidden well.
Between the confines of his mind,
That must have been hell.
His own personal prison cell.

The words he spoke bounce off the walls as they echo through my haunted halls.
I think I see his shadow yet, when I wake in the night, cold with sweat.
But when I turn on the light there's no silhouette.
He’s gone.
He’s out of sight.

When I think of what I could have said and what I could have done.
I realise I could have never understood where it all begun.
But when I think of what I could have said and what I could have done.
I realise I could have saved someone’s son.