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?