I raise my horn the the stand, and scream at the people that sit and stare.
I hold back my breaths, and I try not to care
About the wind that fingers and tugs at my hair.
The crowds cheer and cry, and I hold my bell high,
as I step back one, two, three-four-five
We're running out of time.
I end the note, and bring the bell down,
My feet steady and balanced on the ground,
And suddenly, the field is void of sound.
People are quiet, for a moment, before they all begin to stand
And they all cheer for our large, amazing band
I halt my row with a wave of my hand.
We gather up, straight faced, and proud
I glance forward, to look for my folk amongst the crowd
But all I see is an ocean of strangers to enshroud
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 5:45 PM UTC
I raise my horn the the stand, and scream at the people that sit and stare.
I hold back my breaths, and I try not to care
About the wind that fingers and tugs at my hair.
The crowds cheer and cry, and I hold my bell high,
as I step back one, two, three-four-five
We're running out of time.
I end the note, and bring the bell down,
My feet steady and balanced on the ground,
And suddenly, the field is void of sound.
People are quiet, for a moment, before they all begin to stand
And they all cheer for our large, amazing band
I halt my row with a wave of my hand.
We gather up, straight faced, and proud
I glance forward, to look for my folk amongst the crowd
But all I see is an ocean of strangers to enshroud
I'm thinking back to my first marching Band competition. My parents refused to show.
How loyal?
