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Where I Belong

For years I've waited for so long
To figure out where I belong.
At first I thought I'd get away
For wasting my time of day.
My parents had told me my freshman year



I must do something during my high school career.
From sports to cheer, or any clubs free
If I don't choose, I take ROTC.
With no experience of any above
I couldn't decide which one to love.






But one day, during the summer
I got a call from a director of drummers.
I went to visit with my mom
The band director who seemed like da bomb.
He questioned and pleaded with all of his might



To get me to join the band with invite.
Unsure what to say
I said ok.
I'd give it a try
I walked into the kennels, all quiet and shy.



After the music, drill and show
And after learning the right way to blow.
I learned to play an instrument and learned how to march
I learned to hold it right and have no back arch.
I gained some sight of new music and friends


And I didn't have to worry of new fashions and trends.
They all loved me for who I was
That by the third year I've earned some applause.
At first I thought I'd hate this bit
But instead I learned to master mellophone and pit.

Sure you get the farmer tans
And even the feel of sweaty hands.
But nothing compares with those that stand
When you finish a show for marching band.




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