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