Marching Band Poem by something changing

as the snare clicks
my feet hit the ground
steady with the beat
i can't look around

to see the large crowd
all eyes on us
with an audience this size
we better not mess up

the adrenaline's pumping
i'm ready to go
we stand at attention
waiting to start the show

the drummajor counts off
and the music starts
we sound just fine
the beat matches my heart's

i can smell the night air
and the freshcut grass on the field
the best smell's in the world
to match the weopons we wield

friday night lights
go well with the band
and as we finish up
the audience claps and then stands

mark time mark
we march off to our seats
my uniform is uncomfortably tight
but i must say, our band is pretty sweet