On The Death Of An Old Football Ground
¶ 1
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when they switch off the lights here forever
there are moments galore to remind
there are un-ashamed tears mixed with strange distant fears
and the words become harder to find
when you leave for the very last time
¶ 2
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there are those who wove spells on this carpet
as we stood on this concrete and stone
there were those who would flap and a few who were crap
in a thousand odd games you have known
right here in this old football home
¶ 3
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it was heaven and home in a nutshell
it was crumbling and almost worn through
our eyes become misted it should have been listed
like some other buildings we knew
but it’s not and what else can we do?
¶ 4
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and we find ourselves blindly nostalgic
for coverless hills in the rain
when the steps were all cracked and the terraces packed
and the crowds they would bellow and strain
but we’d never go back there again
¶ 5
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there is history etched in each corner
there are memories carved in the grass
there’s a long echoed roar for each goal we would score
that would tremble for miles and resound
like a cannon from this football ground
¶ 6
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and we’ll miss it like mad for a long time
and we’ll bang on and on about games
of the legends and teams that were part of our dreams
who would lift us through joy and through pain
but whose like we will ne’er see again
¶ 7
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they can switch off the lights here forever
they can wrap us in plastic and steel
with their big superstores that span two or three floors
and whatever they choose to reveal
but they can’t change the way that we feel
¶ 8
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when we stream from this ground for the last time
with its’ paintwork its’ shapes and its sounds
we’ll be saddened I know we’ll be lost we’ll be low
as we take in one last glance around
on the death of an old football ground
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