One-way road, no return lane, we’re marching clean in the pouring rain. No grand finale, no sacred sign, just a deadline pretending to be “fine.” We dress it up, we keep it neat, we make small wars out of minor grief. If the end is certain, here’s the plan: fight harder. Hold your stance. Polish the mask. Fix the hair. Make it look like we were always prepared. Dance! Smile! Right on time! (Drop dead!) Drop dead! One more time! Left! Right! Make it important! Left! Right! Next in line! Left! Right! Make it important! Next in line! Wrong coffee, wrong tone, wrong seat, we’ll go to war in the grocery aisle. Someone’s breathing way too loud, call it “disrespect” and say it proud. A bruise feels deep, a comment stings, so we crown ourselves as little kings. Meanwhile the clock does what it does: chews through names and turns them to dust. Polish the mask. Fix the hair. Smile like you’ve got time to spare. Dance! Smile! Right on time! (Drop dead!) Drop dead! One more time! Left! Right! Make it important! Left! Right! Next in line! Left! Right! Make it important! Someday we’ll be quiet, finally “at peace.” So tonight we scream about parking fees. Dance! Smile! Right on time! (Drop dead!) Drop dead! One more time! Left! Right! Make it important! Left! Right! Next in line! Left! Right! Make it important! Next in line! Keep marching.
