Is there a real life-
Or is it fantasy-
Outside of basics,
My escape from reality.
Open your eyes,
'Tho we're in disguise, they see
I'm just a band geek,
I need no sympathy
'Cause I march in the sun, in the snow,
Sick or tired, I still go.
Even when the wind blows,
Or if it's two hundred degrees, degrees.
Mama, I'm in the cult
Marched twelve miles eight-to-five, it's
a wonder I'm alive
Mama, band camp's just begun,
I've tossed my hopes of sanity away
Mama, ooh, so what if I'm a wreck
You know that I'll be there again
tomorrow,
Marching on, marching on
Because marching really matters.
Too late, the drill has come
Panic running through my mind
'Cause the back field isn't lined
Goodbye, everybody, I've got to play
Gotta rehearse William Fussel still today
Mama, ooh, ('specially when the wind
blows)
I just wanna die- I sometimes wish I'd
never signed up at all!
I see a little sioletto of a block,
Back left slide! Front right flank!
Can you pull the maneuvers?
Mark time to the ankle,
Hope seniors don't mangle thee!
People's Choice! GE visual!
People's Choice! GE visual!
GE visual? I don't know
Still flags to sew...
I'm just a pitster, nobody follows me
He's just a pitster, pathetic as can be
He doesn't march, his problem I can't
see!
Fingers are turning blue- what's a flute
to do?
Play trombone! No, we'll never play
trombone!
Play trombone! On your life, we'll never
play trombone!
Play trombone! On your life, we'll never
play trombone!
Play trombone! Never play trombone!
Play trombone! Never, never, ever play
trombone!
No, no, no, no, no, no, no!
John Phillip Sousa, Mr. Sousa, Mr. Sousa
let me go
The sousaphones have no intervals beside
of me, of me, of me!
So you think you can mock us and say that
we're weird?
Hey, that's just your opinion, we know
that we're feared!
Oh, baby, are we crazy, just maybe!
When we watch films starring the Knights
Who Say Ni!
Marching really matters, anyone could
see,
Marching really matters, marching really
matters to me
Even when the wind blows...
