The smell of smoked bacon, br clinging to clothes, br and the sight of a rat br or a huge black moth br as I waited on the platform. br br Men, scrawny, some scruffy, br some seedy, some smart br would stand too near the edge. br I'd watch nervously, br trying not to stare. br br Lone women, late at night, br would slide up to other women, br scared perhaps, of being left, br in an empty carriage, br with just one foul creep. br br Some nights I'd fall asleep, br with the jogging of the train, br it's meandering, br through tunnels of dark, unholy br blackness, deep underground. br br Moorgate still haunts me, br bodies crushed in a buckled train. br Ghosts ever present br in my head, br These days I hurry past. br br They pierce my memories, br I feel their fear, their pain, br the smoke, the heat, the cries, br my pretty world decimated br into shreds. br br Show me the light, br let the blue sky shine on me. br Bring me sunshine, fresh air, tall trees, br for I dread the dark br that dank, stale stench of the underground.