• Distances covered by our tired feet.
    The time is drawing near.
    They expect us to keep going,
    So we march on.

    Here we march on.
    Into the face of danger.
    We know it’ll be over soon.
    And still we march on.

    March, March, March.
    We must keep going.
    Behind us there are whips.
    In front is the enemy.
    The moment of decision is coming.
    And we still march on.

    We march to the beat of the drums.
    We can hear our loved ones calling.
    Our clocks are ticking away.
    We still keep marching.

    Marching to the end.
    How can a man cope?
    There is no end to this madness,
    We march with little hope.

    We have paused in our march,
    We were told to load our weapons.
    The first volley flies.
    His peaceful time has come.
    This soldier will no longer be marching.

    The fear of death will continue to hang.
    When another man’s turn comes,
    Maybe he will hear the drums,
    And march to the end.
    Like so many others.