The drummer sits
For the first time in forever.
He grabs his sticks,
His faithful servants
And begins to strike the drum,
Boom, clang, boom boom
The drummer’s home
In another world, another place
A perfect picture
Of a man in his element,
Some things may have been forgotten,
But nothing we’d remember
As we listen to the boom of the drums
And the clang of cymbals,
We only see the joy of the drummer.
Then at once the drummer rises,
The moment passes,
The drummer rises
And he stands a leader,
A decider of the fate of our nation.
Washington left his Mount Vernon
As the drummer must leave his drum
To change the tune of our nation’s Capitol.
For nothing is ever accomplished without sacrifice.