The Marching Band

Down the street there’s a marching band

Next to me there’s a clammy hand

I hold on like a beat to a drum

And laugh along, well I laugh along

So don’t grow cold on me, me

So don’t grow old on me, me

In the street there’s a lullaby

A thousand people sing as one tonight

On the pavement all the girls look so young

And all the boys looking like their fathers son

Maybe they

Can’t grow cold on me, me

Maybe they

Can’t grow old on me, me

And in the air the planes fly by

The red smoke, I think I’ll cry tonight

I feel high

I laugh and cry

So before you go

Tell me one word that I don’t know

Before the curtains close

Tell the band a play a song that I don’t know

And we can dance as the light glows

To and fro