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Down out of the depths of the night
Came a man on a Red Liverbird,
Alone he was, unaccompanied by man
He entered the City and passed out of sight.
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He walked down a street where people would follow
Clothed in a robe of deepest red,
Guided by the moon only his eyes did see
He entered the stadium of mighty Anfield.
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Anger and sadness so very intense
Welled up from the ground he walked upon,
Triumphant, his hands no long tense
Pulled the red scarf from the Shankly Gates.
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He walked past the fans who bowed before him
And entered once again his abode
The master of our past, present and future
Had returned with visions of glory as was foretold.
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