Now That You’re Gone
¶ 1
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Now that you’re gone
All that’s left is a band of old
men lumping balls from defence
It makes no sense
We wait in the darkness and the gloom
Floodlights failed and the backroom
boys have no electrician
So they can’t heat the halftime pies
And we’re doing up our flies
With numb fingers frozen by winter
After urinating on our boots
There’s no light in our lives
Now that you’re gone
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