You say that you'd rather be really poor
|
Than scratching, saving, scrimping all the pennies
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Looking in the windows at what you can't afford
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Always hungry, never starving
|
In no man's land the days are long
|
|
You say that you'd rather be really ill
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Than just having headaches, never have no energy
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All the little allergies and all the little pains
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Never getting better, never getting worse
|
In no man's land the days are long
|
|
You say that you'd rather have no love at all
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Than pathetic little words, half-hearted kisses
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Never feeling anything, anything at all
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Never no fire, never no passion
|
In no man's land the days are long
|
|
Do you believe you can come out, fighting from you shell-hole
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Or do you run for cover every time you hear a shot fired in anger?
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No Man's Land
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| New Model Army |
