This is an old song which I performed in my old band 404. When I wrote this song, I was inspired by the song Out In The Fields performed by Gary Moore & Phil Lynott. Both of them born in the time of the conflict in Northern Ireland. The lyrics I feel are still so true today because it doesn’t matter if you’re wrong or if you’re right. It makes no difference if you’re black or if you’re white. All men are equal till the victory is won. No colour or religion ever stopped the bullet from a gun.

Everyday it seemed someone else was a victim of hatred, another innocent person died. In the 1960s a man stood up and said that he had a dream, from England I watched Lethal Weapon, Beverly Hills Cop, listened to Sam Cook, Michael Jackson, Bill Withers, Etta James, Diana Ross etc. and admired these talented people, the colour of their skin didn’t come into it. I thought, naively that the attitude of the early 1960s had gone, we were all wiser. In the 1960’s racists had at least the excuse of possibly not knowing any better, but we are now in the 21st century. It is easier for people to know the facts and to know when a lie is a lie. I find it so hard to fathom that some people are have not grasped that fact people are people, a soul has no skin colour, there is an old saying that you should not judge a book by its cover.

Hate is such a destructive state, only love creates.

Anyway the song is about living in a time of conflict, whether that is in Ireland, the Middle East or even America. The fact that often outside forces fund the hate and destruction. Maybe if people sat down and though about the good things in life rather than focusing on the bad, helped each other rather than tried to prove who is the best, the world could be a better place.

Verse 1
Born in the bad times, here you can’t choose sides.
We walk on a thin line, trying not to really shine.
We war with our own side, both think that we’re right.
We live on the darkside where truth is a white lie.
Here in these bad times.

Verse 2
Soldiers sent to take command from people who don’t understand.
Some people ask for them to stay, while other throw them their grenades.
It’s had to tell, just who’s a friend, will these dangerous times, just never end?
There’s suspicion in the air we breath, these freedom songs are no relief.
Here in these bad times.

Verse 3
The money comes from far away, to some they call it foreign aid.
it buys the bombs that fuel hate, our many thanks to those who pay.
There’s murder in the homeland, the truth is hard to understand.
Let’s sit down and we will drink some beers and maybe they will disappear.
Here in these bad times.

(c)1990 Words and music by John Robert Hunter
(p)2019 Sentric Music Publishing


The song was written 9 days after my song Foreign Land. I love the recording of this song and for me it is one of the best of the 404 recordings. The recording is over 30 years old, so it may feel a little bit dated, but I love Paul Moore’s guitar work on this song.