Re-entry

A tired wearied soul, timid and meek.
Sittin in his box in his 5-day work week
One moment fighting fires on the border of hell
The next he’s pushing paper-waitin for the lunch bell
These two realities just don’t relate.
He’s a commando at heart, a warrior by trade,
forced behind the beat of the commuting parade.
Confusion of the heart, a wandering of the soul,
Trying to find his way in this world gone cold.
Nobody gets him, he feels all alone,
All he wants right now is to find his way home.
But in this mess a lesson to be gained
Significance is in the cross and not in the game.
The war wages on-the rules remain the same
The only difference is the scenery has changed.