The year was '67,
The last we raised it up.
Years come and go,
Still nothing to show,
In these cold, cold hands.
We blame Barillko's body,
On the decade drought.
But what burried bones,
Do we have to bring home,
For another chance?
Its a,
A blackout, but we follow along.
We keep chasing the puck,
Ever whispering someday,
Singing someday,
We'll drink from the cup.
We crept out from the gardens,
Into the neon glow.
A paupers chair
To an emporers throne
Still without a crown.
Did we leave the bloodstains
The crack of ice to bone?
As the winter melted away
Our thirst for glory drowned.
Its a,
A blackout, but we follow along.
We keep chasing the puck,
Ever whispering someday,
Singing someday,
We'll drink from the cup.
When the final score is settled,
And the final road decays,
Did we throw our sticks in the fire,
Or did we have our day?
Or did we have our day?
Or did we have our day?
Its a,
A blackout, but we follow along.
We keep chasing the puck,
Ever whispering someday,
Singing someday,
We'll drink from the cup.