I hear the sound of angry fans
I’m walkin’ by, they’re crushing cans
And throwing them at their sets again
You know I’ve heard this thing before
Every year, at least times four
It’s a city built on stubs and scars
We swear, “No not next year”
But led back to the wooder, here we are
You know we feed them ‘til they’re packed
Tickertape is way too much to ask

Here in the streets and the dives, you can feel it
While back in the stands, swing and miss, you can hear it
These seasons are new, zero love, but we fear it

Barb from South Philly calls again
She was just a kid in ‘64
But remembers her dad cursing at the same old radio
Now they fold like it’s the only thing they know

Here in the streets and the dives, you can feel it
While back in the stands, swing and miss, you can hear it
These seasons are new, zero love, but we fear it

I hear the ghosts of Billy Penn
They’re wailing, “Oh no not again,”
And talkin’ bout the disappointment that’s on deck
But don’t sleep ‘til it’s over
(Cause it brings us together)
These arenas are like scenes of a crime
Soft goals and turnovers
20,000 grunts turn into sighs
And the national condemns…to hell with them
You know I’d throw snow again

Here on the jobs, in the halls, you can feel it
While back in the stands, 6-4-3, you can hear it
These seasons are new, zero love, and we fear it

I hear the ghosts of Billy Penn
They’re wailing, “Oh no not again,”
And talkin’ bout the disappointment that’s on deck
But don’t sleep ‘til it’s over
Cause it brings us together
I hear the ghosts of Billy Penn
I see your goats and your Bartmans
But don’t worry bout it
The piper’s passing out the checks
From the Bull back to the wall
To the top of city hall
We are beaten, full of crow
But I know I’d never call another home “home.”