I march to my own beat,
swaggering past the deaf elite,
out of tune harmonies they discrete,
here I march on to my own beat.
Still I march on to my own beat
I pick my God, set in concrete,
rythymless souls who all retreat,
still I march on to my own beat.
Marching past with my own beat,
I love my own virtue - lets all conceit,
never allow charlatans to repeat,
marching past to my own beat.
Forever I march on to my own beat,
I could love you and make this symphony complete,
come on and taste, am lifes sweetmeat,
forever I march to my own beat.
If you see me strolling with cut feet,
ask for my hand - lets entreat,
join my ramble through lifes roads so sweet,
for I march on with my own beat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem