Death by the dozen
Marching.... Little Aluminum Soldiers
Raise your elbow bend towards battle
Marching as to war
Plan of attack
Maybe a cocktail
Made by Molotov
Made by Smirnoff or by Popov
Initiated under a clear moonshine
Remember when we used to worry about Dolphins dying?
On plastic pieces that used to hold our soldiers at arms
And remember the pull tab pollution that used to cut our feet?
Who is to say industry doesn't progress?
Little pawns of potency that are easy to disguise
In pockets of pants and cans of energy
A perfect serving size
On airplanes and buses and long taxi rides
Marching, marching, all in a line
Jump me and king me and turn me into wine
Red grapes so bitter as they lay on vines
So sweet as they ferment and become so refined
Marching.... Little Aluminum Soldiers
Bendable elbows
Incurable curls
Fashionable hangovers
Unbeatable hurls
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