Marchers In Orange

The white line of tracers For the facers of the aftermath Positioned in the situation Lost in battles of love Not learning not returning Unborn unhatched Yeah but wait It's time to collide To decide, if you will A purpose for the marchers in orange Still circus for the children in disguise Throwing bones to the drug-sniffing dogs Projecting what we've come to know as ours For the colors we wear in our dreams For the flags we fly in our films