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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required To *key3 How bad can it get, don't ask me that question I'm on the 97th floor terrified, hanging from a window, gasping for breath You want to know, if I put faith to the test On the phone to my wife, saying I love you please never forget Bodies burst in the street below me, certain I am next you still want to know, if I put faith to the test My throat has just been cut, on some passenger jet Leading my ladder up a stairwell to die, drenched in sweat You’re repeating that question, if I put faith to the test Searching through rubble, unsure if there's a fingertip left Vaporised into nothing, just a photo for the bereft Disturbing nightmares wake me, shaking and upset, stop asking me, if I put faith to the test I go to Afghanistan, an IED rips open my chest About to be beheaded in Iraq, as a warning to the west Back on the 97th floor you ask me again, if I put faith to the test Do I agree with Guantánamo extraordinary rendition, you bet How about collateral damage, they posed no threat Whatever it takes, this fate I'll never accept I'm a civilian too, now I jump burning to death This poem is to remember, the 2,977 murdered innocents of 911 one Helios Bastard has already forgotten and questions if their faith was put to the test A room awaits the cowardly rotten pig beside his pal Richard Reid in Florence ADX They wear the same shoes The (Tools) of their trade! By David Kavanagh
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