Anticipation of a Guardie
I lay here in my bed
Gazing at my wall…
Waiting for the alarm clock's
Piercing, screeching call.
I get dressed and turn on a lamp…
Smelling my breakfast as it fries.
Anticipating the first day of Guardie camp..
With big circles under my eyes.
I've missed it all summer..
I tell you no lie,
But rising at this hour,
I wish I could die.
8:00 comes early
When you are lazy as hell
And iam not fond of doing it…
In case you couldn't tell.
The band room is cold
As we assemble together.
The 9 of us form a squad…
Better than ever.
The choreographer is finally here,
Amanda be her name,
Her routines are awesome….
Well…. better than last year.
We count in sets of "8"
Over and over again.
According to Smith…
Not doing so is a sin.
One routine after another
We belong to Amanda
No one can help us….
Not even our mother.
The injuries are rising
The confusion getting worse,
The attitudes are multiplying,
And Amanda's gone hoarse.
Tosses mean death
As we watch our Captain fall
Her nose was taken out,
No longer the fairest of em all.
Our muscles are aching
Our spirits are dwindling
But it's just day one
Baby we are far from done.
The shower calls my name
As I wash the grime away
I live for this torture
Each and every day.
The guard is my life
This is what I do.
With my guardie sisters….
Alas we are only a few.
The band o's are dorks
And I know this is true.
That's why iam a guardie
And that's what I do.
~Shari Blanchard.
I lay here in my bed
Gazing at my wall…
Waiting for the alarm clock's
Piercing, screeching call.
I get dressed and turn on a lamp…
Smelling my breakfast as it fries.
Anticipating the first day of Guardie camp..
With big circles under my eyes.
I've missed it all summer..
I tell you no lie,
But rising at this hour,
I wish I could die.
8:00 comes early
When you are lazy as hell
And iam not fond of doing it…
In case you couldn't tell.
The band room is cold
As we assemble together.
The 9 of us form a squad…
Better than ever.
The choreographer is finally here,
Amanda be her name,
Her routines are awesome….
Well…. better than last year.
We count in sets of "8"
Over and over again.
According to Smith…
Not doing so is a sin.
One routine after another
We belong to Amanda
No one can help us….
Not even our mother.
The injuries are rising
The confusion getting worse,
The attitudes are multiplying,
And Amanda's gone hoarse.
Tosses mean death
As we watch our Captain fall
Her nose was taken out,
No longer the fairest of em all.
Our muscles are aching
Our spirits are dwindling
But it's just day one
Baby we are far from done.
The shower calls my name
As I wash the grime away
I live for this torture
Each and every day.
The guard is my life
This is what I do.
With my guardie sisters….
Alas we are only a few.
The band o's are dorks
And I know this is true.
That's why iam a guardie
And that's what I do.
~Shari Blanchard.