The batter stands
Without a sound
The air is thick, and still

All the eyes are focused on
The lonely pitcher's hill

Bleachers distorted in the halogen light
The faces are twisted and grotesque
Drunken and loud in the sweltering night
The mob moves like demons possessed
Completely obnoxious, waiting to fight -
Confident their team is best

The righteous rise
With blurry eyes
Unfocused and unclear

Fat men fed on beer and fries
To eat, and burp, and cheer

They say there are dangers, to play for us
Gotta dodge that wild ball
But other sports are much more dangerous
Have Bo Jackson tell you all
Those who know what's best for us -
Must try to save us from football

Quick to swing
Quick to anger
Slow to hit the ball

Being sent
Back to the bench
Or worse
The shower stall