From a nurse, Vicki Lines

Retired from the 2nd Royal Tank Regiment, my identity has gone,
Pangs of loneliness, isolation the nights are long.
I’ve seen my comrades wounded, fallen at my feet,
Now dumped in this no-mans land called Civilian Street.

I have fought with pride for my country and served the queen,
Civilians could not contemplate what I have seen,
But, now not caring whether I am alive or dead,
The price of reality is messing with my head.

In the army, united, we followed every rule,
But out here it appears that everyone is a fool.
I just can’t seem to settle, I move from place to place,
The same endless circle of women, face after face.

My feelings and thoughts locked away for no one to see,
Sure in the knowledge that nobody has the key.
Behind the title of tank commander I can hide,
Just as long as everything can stay trapped inside.

I have a few army friends, fags and Jameson Scotch,
Regimental medals, lighter and souvenir watch.
I keep convincing myself that is enough for me.
You will have to be a special woman to set me free.

I know this is survival; it’s not life that I live,
I am empty inside; there is nothing left to give.
Only enough love for Sarah and Joshu to share,
But for anyone else I make no promise to care.