as the snare clicks <br />my feet hit the ground <br />steady with the beat <br />i can't look around <br /> <br />to see the large crowd <br />all eyes on us <br />with an audience this size <br />we better not mess up <br /> <br />the adrenaline's pumping <br />i'm ready to go <br />we stand at attention <br />waiting to start the show <br /> <br />the drummajor counts off <br />and the music starts <br />we sound just fine <br />the beat matches my heart's <br /> <br />i can smell the night air <br />and the freshcut grass on the field <br />the best smell's in the world <br />to match the weopons we wield <br /> <br />friday night lights <br />go well with the band <br />and as we finish up <br />the audience claps and then stands <br /> <br />mark time mark <br />we march off to our seats <br />my uniform is uncomfortably tight <br />but i must say, our band is pretty sweet<br /><br />something changing<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/marching-band-4/
