It seems my bones are marching on, on to the beat again.
Pulse becomes pain, march through the rain, moving just to keep in the time.
It seems my bones are marching on, on till they turn to sand.
Eroding my name, all are the same, pushing while there’s more within me.
We’re marching in a straight line and given a name.
The pieces they fall, never the same.
We’re marching on, pushing in time, the rain may break.
Brothers of strife…we walk the line.
It seems my bones are marching on, on to the bitter end.
Cutting rain stings, still I can sing, bleeding while there’s more within me.
It seems my bones are marching on, on though it seems we have lost all hope.
Hope turns to grief, longing for sleep, but something says we need to survive.
We’re marching in a straight line and given a name.
The pieces they fall, never the same.
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Brothers of strife…we walk the line.
Come on men! ROW!
My bones are rowing on, on to another shore.
Tide of new dreams, pushing upstream.
Harder and harder we move through the night.
Enough of my innocence died.
The day that I became not a child.
We never had enough but we survived.
If not for sight, those pictures inside may be healed.
We’re marching in a straight line and given a name.
The pieces they fall, never the same.
We’re marching on, pushing in time, the rain may break.
Brothers of strife…we walk the line.