Drummer Boy
By Dillon Collins
The drum of the young one, broken and torn. Because
I've been marching backwards from the day I was born.
The flag man is shouting, he doesn't understand.
He doesn't realize that by retreating, I'm taking a stand.
I will not blindly follow, eyes hidden behind,
The drum of the young one, I've made up my mind.
My age doesn't matter, I've decided i'll stand,
marching backwards through chaos with the youth of this land.
So away I marched, down San Juan hill,
They told me that the soldiers are screaming there still.
I could never go back, though I'm a man now they say.
I will never forget the day the drummer boy ran away.
