A/N: This isn't exactly *MARCHING* band per se, but it's BAND and I *mentioned* MARCHING, so I figured it would get a better reception here than in the "original poetry" section.

...All you happy people out in Reviewer Land won't hold it against me, right? ^_^;;;;;


**********************************

Sitting in a grey tupperware chair
My saxophone restlessly dripping spit into my lap
Watching them parade across the stage

(They're on top of the world)

And nobody cares that we're here
But everyone would miss us if we're gone

I realize this isn't our show
We're not supposed to be the center of attention
But who doesn't notice "Pomp and Circumstance"?

(I know *I* wouldn't)

And nobody cares that we're here
But everyone would miss us if we're gone

At least we're warm and dry
Even if we are a bit uncomfortable and bored
I think I heard the trumpet section snoring...

(No, 'twas just a stray timpani mallet)

And nobody cares that we're here
But everyone would miss us if we're gone

Does anyone have a Kleenex?
I can't believe I'll never march with these people again
They're like my own flesh and blood....

(What am I saying? This isn't like me!)

But none of us cares that we're here
And each of us would miss it if we're weren't