I'll tell the story of the shun young five men
They made a ruckus again and again
Cuz every morning in their small town
They sung and played and shouted too loud
The same song every day and every night
A joyful melody, glad and bright
But all the village elders they grew
Weary of this monotonous tune
That the young ones played
The elders they made, a collossal blockade
Good morning boys, the youngest said.
"Get out of bed, joy to be spread"
But then he saw the massive wall, and said
"Well, first we'll tear this down
Because this clearly is a big mistake"
"While I do this
Why don't you boys play me a song to keep me awake?"
And as the wall crumbled, five shun young men
Marched in line, played a song so fine
The elders didn't know what to say or think
When five boys came marching in, in sync
One closed his eyes in melancholy
Hoping they wouldn't play this melody
The boys said: "Look how happy they are now.
There's one even crying, in relief cause we're here"
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