The Ones who Don’t Make It
¶ 1
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Who talks about the young players
Whose stars do not reach the sky
Whose days are over due to injury
And shown the door “goodbye”
No glory days no winning goals
No terrace chants their names
No millions gathered in the bank
When they’re too old for the game
The dreams that come to b-g-er all
The promises to dust
The hopes that shredded at the seams
The gold that’s really rust.
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