To the tune of “Killing Me Softly”
We watched them at the old Met
We watched them at the Dome
Now we watch at Target Field whenever they’re at home.
And through all these long years,
They’ve played the same old way
Pissing away loaded bases
Swinging away at ball four
Killing our chances with pick offs,
And passed balls, bad pitching,
Killing us slowly, our home team,
Our hopes were realized two times
The rest have been shot down
Whenever we get hopeful they’re swept while out of town
A balk, an infield pop fly,
Opponents stealing bases
Why do we keep on pretending?
Why don’t we cheer for the Yanks?
Killing our chances with bad knees
Concussions, and rookies,
Killing us slowly, and surely,
All these years.