Harold Land

Harold Land, with a wave of his hand
Said goodbye to all that
He paid his bills and stopped the milk
Then put on his hat

He tried to say his last farewells
As quickly as he could
Promising that he would return
But doubted that he would
Doubted that he would, doubted

Now he's marching soldiers in the rain
As on to war they rode
A long thin line of human mind
Damnation as their load

In the mud in coldness dark
He'd shiver out his fear
What disappointing sights he'd seen
Instead of ones so dear
Instead of ones so dear, so dear

Going home, he's going home
To the land he loved so well
Going home, he fought for two whole years
He never fell
Going home, he's going home
Going home, he's going home

Harold Land, with a wave of his hand
Stood sadly on the stage
Clutching red ribbons from a badge
But he didn't look his age

Only two years had passed
Between his leaving home and back
He had lost his love and youth
While leading the attack
Leading the attack

In conversation it could be said
Well after war your heart is dead
Well it's not hard to understand
There is no heart in Harold Land