My Mets Theme Song

Telephone Call From Shea



All night long we sing this song
on the broken glass
of the bottle of vintage Mets
we dropped from the airplane flying overhead,
as Jorge Julio mops up again.

Some nights we get Pedro in a glass,
shots of Wright and Reyes on the side
feeling large and wonderful,
the fat man who never pays the bill,
and can't squeeze his ass
into those tiny box seats.

I got a telephone call from Shea
the Mets are gonna to win today
who knows, who knows,
if it's just the third base coach
waving another Castro home
just to get thrown
out again.

Will you sell me one of those tickets
if I shave my head into oblivion
singing and chanting
the newest Mets song
as though we were wonderful all along?

All game, all gone, we sing this song
on the broken glass
of the bottle of vintage Mets
we dropped from the airplane flying overhead
as the Mets lose to the Braves again.

Get me out of hell on the number seven
never trust a team that inflates your dreams
only to puncture them again.

I got to wear out Mr Met
with a baseball bat
and a cigarette
the days are not cloudy anymore.

I got a telephone call from Shea
The Mets are gonna win today.
The world is gonna turn up sevens.

(ripped off inspired by Tom Waits' Telephone Call From Istanbul