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
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