Marching on,
whilst the trumpets sound,
and the drums are pouned for pace,
for us to take the steps,
ones well coordinated and without careless slips.
Hail to the chiefs,
ones unseen,
who set the rythym of our lives,
behind the scenes.
Nowhere to be seen,
is the end of all,
the end of the walk,
hopefully it's not just a wall.
______
Pointless chit chat, I say.
