The Band Member
Mark, Time, March, And!
One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven and eight and
The sun's rays reflect off the pearly white shoes
Sweat builds in the dark until it is released and rolls down their cheeks
An unavoidable stench begins to form in the material
Lips are tired
Arms are tired
Feet are tired
People are tired
And they do it all for the praise of three men
It doesn't matter how good they are
It doesn't matter if everyone else loves them
If those three men do not love them...
They have failed
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