You say that you'd rather be really poor

Than scratching, saving, scrimping all the pennies

Looking in the windows at what you can't afford

Always hungry, never starving 

In no man's land the days are long



You say that you'd rather be really ill

Than just having headaches, never have no energy

All the little allergies and all the little pains

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

Than pathetic little words, half-hearted kisses

Never feeling anything, anything at all

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

Or do you run for cover every time you hear a shot fired in anger?