I wonder why I do this every day-
I wake so early, rise before the sun
And while the school is filling up
I'm hoping practice might be done
Because much as I love my instrument,
As much as I love band,
As much as I adore my boyfriend,
There are some things I think I just can't stand
We work! We march! We practice daily,
Keeping rhythm, tapping beats,
The drumline sounds a steady tempo,
Directing us on steady feet,
But sometimes – the morning comes too early.
I think I won't make it through the day
I don't want to work! I don't want to march!
Just let me sleep, just go away!
And some weeks later, contest's here!
I panic, freak, we're just not ready
And marching out onto the field
I hang my head; it feels so heavy-
But much to my surprise, the intro sounded great
The battery is keeping time; they didn't play on any rests
The flutes are heard, no squeaky reeds,
Hope begins to rise within my chest
The question I have asked myself – the simple word of "why"
Flitters through my mind as now, we march for real,
I know the answer – always have
It's that very perfect moment, the one every student knows and feels.
I love this stuff – I really do!
The early practice, late-night drills,
Hot and stuffy uniforms,
Halftime shows and pre-game meals
It's why I just keep coming back
Sophomore, Junior, Senior year!
Because despite the pain we all go through,
Despite the stupid looking shoes
Despite pep rally shorts, the tacky shirts,
The morning practices, freezing cold,
Summer band, half-naked, sweating
To get more sleep, you'd sell your soul
And finally when the season ends
You've won awards, you've marched enough
You get to sleep, you get to eat
You've realized that you're really tough
To rough it out through marching band
Settle down for concert season
You're looking forward to next year
And you know there's just one reason:
You love the stuff.
You always do.
You always will.
It's part of you.