(instrumental opening)

In a little while from now
they'll be tearing the stadium down.
I promised myself I'd steel myself
and not have no tears, just frown.
I'd sat right at the top
and watched my ballclub flop
in an effort to
make it clear to who-
ever roots for them gets shattered
left sitting in the stands
our demands, "You guys who're playing
my God, that's dumb, you're such a bum
each inning that we're staying."
I may as well go home.
So through the stands I roam.
A loss again
there at Shea.

To think that only yesterday
Metropolitans came to play
back in sixty-nine
well, they played so fine
and a miracle born that day.
But for years we all would grieve
though said, "You gotta believe!"
And without so much
as a mere touch
they broke our hearts into pieces
leaving me to doubt
talk about Doctor Dwight Gooden.
The Met bullpen has blown again.
Their hearts must all be wooden.
It's making my brain bleed.
For it truly is indeed
a loss again
there at Shea.

It seems to me that Citi Field
is opening next year.
'Twill bring achievements.
Or... no! Bereavements!
What will we do?
What will we do?

(instrumental break)

A loss again
there at Shea.

And looking back over the years
after drinking those Rheingold beers
I remember how I cried
when Gil Hodges died
never wishing to hide the tears.
And at 72 years old
Mrs. Payson, God rest her soul
wouldn't understand
how a team so grand
couldn't build on '86 win
leaving us to start
with our hearts so badly broken.
So once again, to 7 train.
So sad, we drop our tokens.
And now the yard is closed.
And we Met fans are hosed!
A loss again
there at Shea.

A loss again.
No more Shea.