Tick, tick, tick, they move steady with untiring feet
They break and they loot, and they plunder and shoot, and they March on the tick by tick
They step with every beat, through shower and Frost and heat
And they'll make you a part of an un beating heart as they March on the tick and repeat.
A river of troops, they sweep
Their canons break full and deep
And one moment you cry and in the next you're dry and you're washed away into the heap.
They wash all memories vain
Or on books they're best retained
But still a few soul are brave and bold,
For a while longer they fight and keep their hold
Blows from the present numerous they sustain, and blows more from this river cold.
I've read and heard of thy master's tales
Of their beanstalk rising and angel fails
But as long you stand this marching band
Of flesh and blood will they still prevail
And not be residents of a fantasy land.
So let your defenders shout in vain
Let them die in thousands for every awe it gains
For blessed are those who submerge than break
And blessed we more to see you make,
This losing battle.