What I Love (to do)

Sure it gets hot
And the bugs come around
But more rather than not
I prefer this marching ground. Sweat runs down my face
And the sun almost blinds me
But amidst all these things
My heart is set free. Not many tans we get
Just sunburns that sting
Some laugh when I say
This is my favorite thing. The uniforms aren't considered
To be the coolest things around
But under all the musty fabric
My friends are found. More than once we've fought
And other times just cried
But we all came back together
In the shortest amount of time. Then when the rain is pouring
And we put on our "gumbys"
We look as stupid as ever
But do you hear anyone grumbling? We march through miles of parades
And practice so much a week
And give up popularity,
Yet no complaints we speak. You think that I am crazy
And ask me what I'm speaking of
It may sound silly to you,
But it's marching band I love.