Music by Gerald Fratzl | Lyrics by Al Grego
Standing on your amp, Les Paul losely slung over your shoulder, swing your strumming arm in a counter-clockwise windmill motion while striking the chords to this song. This is a great air-guitar tune.
Parade is the seventh track on With Baited Breath, and it’s about the ratrace and all the contradictions and hypocracies that come with it. It’s about the masks people wear, the roles we play, and the strange comfort we find in pretending everything is under control. The parade always moves on. Even when we can’t anymore.
Propulsive, classic speed rock with a progressive metal feel and clever lyrics.
— OBN
Lyrics:
Sun hits the jungle
Dawn is surreal
Another day at the office
Hunting for your meal
Got caught in the rat race
Work hard for your cheese
When all you need is money
Bring you down to your knees
So what has become of them
They all just live till their deaths
We’re all just in a parade
There must be some way out of here
Between the faithful and the rest
Lining up in a single-file line
We’re all just in a parade
In a parade
Make an honest living
Living in debt
Or live in a lie
Then try to forget
Caveman never had this problem
Didn’t care what he wore
Called no one a bigot
Called no one a whore
So what has become of them
They all just live till their deaths
We’re all just in a parade
There must be some way out of here
Between the faithful and the rest
Lining up in a single-file line
We’re all just in a parade
In a parade
Sun hits the jungle
Dawn is surreal
Another day at the office
Hunting for your meal
So what has become of them
They all just live till their deaths
We’re all just in a parade
There must be some way out of here
Between the faithful and the paid
Lining up in a single-file line
We’re all just in a parade
In a parade
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What are you thinking?