Somewhere out there, behind the mortar block and glass, and all the high rises, there lives two men. One of 'em in a cabin by a lake, the other bouncing his great-grandbaby on his knee. And they are alone.
One of there lives was filled with depression and solitude and wishing for calls from children who used to be his, the other with gathering of family members and showing off something that didn't exist.
They knew one another, long back, way back, too far back, in a time where it was much easier or harder. Easier and harder. They were young at that time, not old men. One of them was binded by the expectations of the happy, happy, happy, not happy, family man, the other was free, free, free to do as he pleased, his momma didn't care, his wife didn't, his children didn't care. But he cared.
Far, far, far, far, far, away in that place they were sent, that's where they knew each other. Knowing, knowing, really knowing, now they just knew. He doesn't exist to the other one. No, no more. He left him, went home, syonora, goodbye, Abyssinia, gone. He went back to his family, couldn't play more. Went back to reality. Went back.
The other, stayed and stayed and stayed, then went home. He couldn't go home. No, not now. But he did, but he didn't. Didn't go back to the way it was. No, no, no, went away, couldn't stay. He wanted to be the good guy for once, the noble soldier, the gallant knight, the shiny super hero doing the right thing. Couldn't go back. didn't go back.
Somewhere out there, behind the mortar block and glass, and all the high rises, there lives two men. One of 'em, Frank in a cabin by Lake Michigan, the other, Trapper bouncing his great-grandbaby on his knee. And they are alone.