harold land with a wave of his hand
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. now he's marching soldiers in the rain
as on to war they rode. a long thin line of human mind
in the mud in coldness dark he'd shiver out his fear
what disappointing sights he'd seen instead of one's so dear
he's going home to the land he loved so well
he fought for two whole years he never fell
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
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.