Marching Season Siege

Marching down my street
Right past my old church
Beat your drums of hate
Until your hands burst
And the route you take
Through my neighbourhood
Is a well-planned route
Laying for some blood
Oh, some blood

You could march down your own street
But that's not what you want
There's no point in that
You need someone to taunt
And the hate they feel
Is beaten into them
From their infancy
Dropped and dropped again
Oh, again, again

I have many friends
Who come from your background
But they see through hate
And their own voice they've found
Every summertime
We are under siege
Every summertime
It's the marching season
Siege, oh, the siege, the siege
It's the marching season
Siege, oh, the siege, the siege
To siege, to siege