The morning was quiet, the air clear and still
A great day to sleep late in the winter chill
Sometimes it steps softly, in shoes made of felt
Or loud crashing brass boots, held with a steel belt
All they do is march on, all day and all night
Each footstep is even and perfectly timed
The same distance travelled for each hour chimed
Billions of marchers, each stepping in sync,
Not stopping to rest, not pausing to drink
But none can speed up and none can go slow
Each marcher steps off our allotment of time
Though tempted to sleep on, I quit my sweet slumber
Before the soft footsteps were booming like thunder
We age with its passage, no shame and no crime
Some change their appearance, look younger by far
Splashing some new paint on the same old car
Whether time is spent wisely or frittered away
Tomorrow will come, and it may look the same
But before we know it, the decades have passed
Our long march begins at the moment of birth
march, march, march
March, March, March
MARCH, MARCH, MARCH
MARCH, MARCH, MARCH