Marching Band

Military men are made with ordinary plans Built from the ground up to take instructions Every corpuscle of the corporal to General Created with truth, justice and two legs (That is the American way) Army bands are made to play Musical instruments for sound With white gloves waving high Pointing out in your direction A young boy leads them left Down an alley with his stick It does not matter who directs They follow orders to find left Without question to that end There is no explanation They can not reason on their own Or comprehend the concept of reverse Thank goodness they are not alone Marching in place when facing danger Moving up against the wall an obstacle Playing at the pleasure of the bricks It is what all that training must be for One leg after the other going up and down In perfect cadence dusk to dawn in stasis To their final destination A dead end wall