Letra de ' On Your Radio ' de Greg McLeod

I've got two younger brothers, we all played violin
Had lessons in succession, we took turns going in
Otherwise outside waiting in the car
Before I got older and switched to guitar

Turn on the radio, flip to sports
Music was work and we didn't want more
Hockey was poetry in a violent guise
Canuckleheads lost or if we're lucky they tied

Late nineties, early aughts, not good times
Shorty and Tom, long suffering guys
They got theirs in 2005
Won the 50-50 in the building, on the air live

For me that was life intruding on a fantasy
Announcers have to eat, yeah and even feed their families
Back from the intermission 20,000 richer
Teams switch sides, and how they do paint the picture

Right to left on your radio
Through your car stereo
See it in your mind
You could almost feel
The shot that teased the twine
But then the battery died

Bingo bango bongo, his name's Roberto Luongo
Better than any veteran we ever got from Toronto
Never got caught letting a shot in from the red line
Never got mugged instead of getting to practice on time

O Captain! My captain! Have him replace Naslund
Light a fire, pump his tires, call him a distraction
Crush him under the weight of collossal expectations
Postgame shows that make me want to change the station

Tell a lot about a town by how it treats its team
Good times, the bad times, the times in between
We got a special soft spot for soft spoken Swedes
Unique kind of pessimism that always believes

Vancouver's a fragile city, tell us we're pretty
Tell us you don't mind all our panhandlers and dirty hippies
We'll get them out the way when you come around
Pull a Ralph Klein, give 'em bus tickets out of town

Right to left on your radio
Through your car stereo
See it in your mind
You could almost feel
The shot that teased the twine
But then the battery died

I played a show in Boston when we lost in game three
I didn't wear my jersey it was such a massacree
Between you and me, I don't mind we didn't win
If that's sacrilege, sacrifice a coach for my sins

But the lack of a cup kinda defines me as a person
Always striving always diving always trying to be deserving
Never certain of my worth, never come away a winner
With a sickly sweet smile like poison come to dinner

Don't cut parts out for the sake of the picture
They're a classy team that maybe might lightly bite your finger
Regular guys except like a thousand times richer
6'1", 201 average but they could be bigger

And if they win it all, what about next fall?
What if it's boring, what if it all seems banal?
Like, sure the world moved but my life it didn't change
Drove through the tunnel, now the signal's in range

Right to left on your radio
Through your car stereo
See it in your mind
You could almost feel
The shot that teased the twine
But then the battery died