There's miles of land in front of us,
And we're dying with every step we take;
We're dying with every breathe we make,
And I'll fall in line.
A stranger's back is all I see.
He's only a few feet in front of me,
And I'll look left, and right sometimes,
But I'll fall in line.
No one looks up anymore,
Cause you might get a raindrop your eye,
And Heaven, forbid they see you cry,
As we fall in line.
And about this time, of every year,
The line will go to the ocean pier,
And walk right off, into the sea,
Then we fall asleep.
-TwentyOne Pilots "March to the Sea".