Lost in Prayers

Minor delays on the Northern, post rush hour. Tannoys screech out, about some signal failure. Had one too many but hey, I'm off tomorrow. And I sense him and a conflict within me is... Some call it panic : I consider my error, I must not fear, no. I consider my error, while he stares mumbling. He's lost in prayers, I can not fear, no. One more station to Leicester, June the eleventh. The nation's air strikes, the mumbled prayers. Shall I trust my senses, or shall I not ? The doors are opening : Now I'm fuckin' o/ What if ? Some call it panic : I call it terror. I'm feeling fucked. I consider my error, while he stares mumbling, still lost in prayers. I'm walking out. What if ? Some call it panic : It drives me frantic. But I'm keeping calm. Fucked up by your errors, fucked up by my senses, fucked up by your posters, I carry on.