Misschelseabun
10-23-2011, 07:26 AM
As the helmet rolls to a stop, the world cares.
A tiny tear on the surface of something otherwise brilliant.
The crash they longed for, now outraged with heartache.
Every stranded wheel and broken bone,
Emblazoned in headlines and outcries from the occasional follower.
The men who were absent for the moment of triumph.
As warriors diced to bring victory and pride,
A single voice championed their battle to unbothered editors.
Two lines at the bottom of the page, squashed beneath footballer’s affairs.
And then our believers questioned its fairness,
Digging beneath the rainbow for a reason in the pot of gold.
Holding the shoulders of comrades, consoling their loss.
The glory hunters amplify each spark and cry,
Sensational anguish for the fallen men they never knew.
Flying the flag of expertise for a cause they know nothing about.
Then yesterday’s papers blow into the wind,
Sweeping their talent and vigour and strength under the carpet.
And those who really loved are left to grieve.
A tiny tear on the surface of something otherwise brilliant.
The crash they longed for, now outraged with heartache.
Every stranded wheel and broken bone,
Emblazoned in headlines and outcries from the occasional follower.
The men who were absent for the moment of triumph.
As warriors diced to bring victory and pride,
A single voice championed their battle to unbothered editors.
Two lines at the bottom of the page, squashed beneath footballer’s affairs.
And then our believers questioned its fairness,
Digging beneath the rainbow for a reason in the pot of gold.
Holding the shoulders of comrades, consoling their loss.
The glory hunters amplify each spark and cry,
Sensational anguish for the fallen men they never knew.
Flying the flag of expertise for a cause they know nothing about.
Then yesterday’s papers blow into the wind,
Sweeping their talent and vigour and strength under the carpet.
And those who really loved are left to grieve.