March the children off to school,
for they’ll be criminals and fools
if we don’t fill their tiny minds
before the Russians get inside.

March the children one-by-one;
don’t let them skip or dance or run.
Hose them down with gasoline
and march them into our Machine.

March the children off to work;
turn them into file clerks.
Switch their toys for desks and screens
so we can beat those damn Chinese.

March the children to-by-two;
march the bottoms off their shoes.
Fill them up with greed and fears
so they will march and turn the Gears.

March the children off to war;
enlist them in the Killing Corps.
The Muslims will not kill themselves
so we must send them all to hell.

March the children three-by-three
into the bowels of our Machine.
Wait on the other side to eat
fresh sausages of tender meat.

March the children to their graves
into the holes of bygone slaves.
Pave a freeway overtop
and drive to meet another crop.

This is the only way to live;
it sure beats the alternative
of letting life be free and green
to clog the Gears of our Machine.

So march the children to the end;
march their siblings, march their friends.
March the world to its own edge
then march the whole thing
off the ledge.