Composed, performed, programmed & produced by Wavesword "Marsy" Mars and Alex North, featuring piano by Bill Evans and keyboards by Herbie Hancock

Lyrics reproduced by the artist

I was reading in the March of Time
A story that looked more than a little like mine
It captured my nascence in the shadow of wealth
Though not the abuse, or profusions of bruising from the belts
It spoke of how by the time I was 1 and 9 I’d graduated
Once less than thrice, but not how I’d also almost died twice
Then a passage it adored, how I took none
Of my magnate folks’ money, yet made a whole lot more
It told of material success, but not how I set off untold revolutions
Disguised in flesh, which took up whole souls’ purchase without incurring
Something so apparent as a minor disturbance,
Changed his society for no price higher than mild annoyance
In the one paper full of experts, and eager commentariat
An esteem for better news, an even-handedness known to few,
It was a not believable story; and, in being so, accurate and true
Believable? I never have been

Oh you will find if you go reading
Leafing through the March of Time
Reading through the March of Time
A story just like this

Every morning in the mirror I see
The guy who tried to murder me
Unsuccessfully, thankful are we both
That I had too much HP, and since then we
Have struck up a friendship of moving address
In a tame West; he alone knows all the secrets
Of who I was at the time we met, that my body
Then was my shadow, and my shadow the real me.
At least, thanks to him, I knew I was capable of action,
Of imposing myself upon the world, if only to curtail
Forever possibility of the same.
I don’t dwell in those Badlands, but lord knows I sent
A lot of thought miners into that memory’s thorny pass
From the rock came resplendent questions hewed: 
To escape the fate that made you, and shape your
Own nature: you don’t have to do this alone, or do you?
And why are the good who are also strong so few?

You will find if you go reading
Leafing through the March of Time
Reading through the March of Time
A story just like this
The story is the story of the good guy
And what he was made and betrayed by

There’s an awful lot the lens of that profile couldn’t help you see
Like the expression my brother’s ghost carved in the moon and
Which shines down on our mutual enemies; the cynical, deceitful,
The unmerciful virtuous, the deaf to reason, and broccoli.
Like the love, scarred, pierced beyond belief, that still drives me
Like the untameable mare of unthinkable truth I ride freely
Easy do we forget the full expansive glory of our story
So, at ease the March of Time, let me tell you mine
You may not like what I have to say
And find you like me anyway
At first the story of the good guy seems
Like you’re gaining in everyone’s esteem for gallantly walking green fields
Then all of a sudden boys of bones emerge from below 
To run through you, though they look like you do
You begin to recognise the villainy of friends
Soon you’re pitching through a hell of tortures oddly specific and unheard of
Which you’ll think not even the staunchest villain’d deserve
All this to create a good that will subject to all that evil throw at it
And not lose its nerve and cry
“Who’d ever want to be the good guy?”
The goods you pretend to will fall under wheel on our way
And rot in your renewed sight of them will many of the comforting beliefs you hold dear
If you take up rein and ride through the story with me here
How good is formed: the last tale anyone ever wants to hear

“A tree that would try to hide what it is
In the end will bear its fruit”, quoted on
The back pages of the March of Time
It prints your tale, it prints mine
“If we can learn from each other
A little more we’ll live forever”
Rich philosophies run in
This ink

Our War and How We Won It

I Was Reading in the March of Time

"Like a Dostoyevsky novel you can dance to..."

Baroque-hop, London blend

^)^

I Was Reading in the March of Time

Marsy Mars