Marching Marching All Fall Down

Here we go a marching, marching, marching, 
Every step a straight line, heel and toe, 
Pressing with precision ever forward 
To a destination no one knows.

Pacing the parade grounds, hut – two – three – four, 
Passing the review stand, 
All eyes right. 
Tiny beads of sweat on eyebrows forming, 
Keeping the formation ever-tight.

Bugles blare and drums drum, 
Trombone, cymbals, 
Clarinet and tuba keeping pace. 
Every note a sweet song stringing memories, 
Sugaring a smile on every face.

Now the march is over, 
Silence steps in, 
No one in the anywhere makes a sound. 
Out of breath and spent with satisfaction, 
Marching, marching, 
All fall down.

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