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.