Suicide bomber in Moscow Airport
In January when it's cold as hell
One British man and thirty others caught
In the arrivals lounge. Innocents fell
Left to TV their final tales to tell
Experiencing a sudden bright flash
The brightest light they'd ever seen, a smell
They thought was food cooking but was their flesh
Lying in red liquid like sauce on mash
And in a second flash the dire thought
They were dying. One moment all was well
And then the world was turned to flying glass
Bomb blast and body parts that really ought
Not to be flying separately at all
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