quick march

this road will wind and lead to the last hill
we know each turn each pebble and sharp rock
the time and distance must yield to our will

the reddening sun and golden moon may fill
electric sky we can't pause to take stock
this road will wind and lead to the last hill

we have to be on time we know the drill
and we are not the masters of the lock
the time and distance must yield to our will

not one of us could claim to have the skill
to pause the hour or to slow down the clock
this road will wind and lead to the last hill

it's not for others to withhold the bill
for what we do we can withstand the shock
the time and distance must yield to our will

what we achieve is done without a thrill
no one turns back for all that you may mock
this road will wind and lead to the last hill
the time and distance must yield to our will