---

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
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 one so dear
Instead of one 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
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

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