Measuring March time 600,000 feet move in place A modern armada churns at sea–and 21,000 lb. bombs explode Reality TV
Testing fear at home and abroad The clocks tick slow motion The pendulums swing perpetual–and All the dots are lined with clouds
Sousa abruptly awoke in terror The coda and finale all but a scream With March time pounding at his bed–and Sweat bleeding profusely from his brow
When the March was done Sand had run out of time Nothing was left to count–and Only casualties had made the refrain.
(C) 2003 HAMMOND GUTHRIE