A Quick Explanation for People Not In My Band: Okay, we're going to state this year and my band director is always telling us that "they're going to announce you as number one and then they'll be on the loudspeaker telling you to get off the field but instead we'll all play the fight song and know that our work was all worth it" and stuff like that. The Sound is what we aim for in brass. The guy who glides in is a director from our rival school. I think that's it . . .

I live in a band hall in the oh-so way back of my school

And I stand in-spot looking 'cross the field

Imagining that band is cool.

Then in glides a guy who's all dressed up like a total prep

And says, I'm winning state even though my band has a bad rep

I say, Hey! You! Get off of my field!

Hey! You! Get off of my field!

Hey! You! Get off of my field!

Don't hang around 'cause we won't yield

From this field, baby

Inside my ears is ringing

I say, "That's the Sound. Who is there listening?"

A voice says, "Hi, hello, how are you?"

Well, my bell is glistening.

He says, "It's three a.m., there's too much noise

Don't you people ever wanna go to bed ?

Just 'cause you feel so good, do you have

to drive me out of my head?"

I say, Hey! You! Get off of my field!

Hey! You! Get off of my field!

Hey! You! Get off of my field!

Don't hang around 'cause we won't yield

From this field, baby

I got sick and tired, fed up with band

And decided to take a slot room nap.

It wasn't very quiet and peaceful

I had this dream about my left-flank snap.

I laid the dots out, I was so wired

And I started to think,

"In the morning, the colorguard girls will just

Take their flags and spin without a blink."

I say, Hey! You! Get off of my field!

Hey! You! Get off of my field!

Hey! You! Get off of my field!

Don't hang around 'cause we won't yield

On my field, baby

I say, Hey! You! Get off of my field!

Hey! You! Get off of my field!

Hey! You! Get off of my field!

Don't hang around 'cause we won't yield