The Art of Marching

Crowds are cheering,
thousands of eyes veering.
First step on the field,
what could it yield?
Come on we're nearly there,
crowd begins to stare.

We play our first note,
the music begins to build.
Marching across the field,
our instruments we wield.

First an E,
then comes a G.
Finally at the end,
my head begins to spin.

We stand in place solemnly,
shouldn't this be their obligation?
Then out of nowhere,
the crowd gives a standing ovation.

We march off the field,
we all have the feels.
This isn't the end,
it only just begins.

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