I didnt write this, but i thougth it was pretty neat that someone rewrote the entire song for nfl work stoppage.
American Pie Football
A long, long time ago…
I can still remember
How those playoffs used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
I could do that endzone dance
And, maybe, T.O. would be quiet for a while.
But February made me shiver
With every story PFT delivered.
Bad news on my desktop;
I couldn’t take one more drop
And I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about their phony pride,
But something touched me deep inside
The day that football died.
So bye-bye, Mr Commissioner guy
Drove my RV to the stadium
But the party was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, “this’ll be the day the league dies
“this’ll be the day the league dies
Did you write the helmet rules?
And do you have faith in the Goodell fool?
Even if the ref tells you so?
Now do you believe in rock ’n roll,
Can the NFL save your mortal soul,
And can you teach us how to tackle real slow?
Well, I know that you’re in love with them
`cause you’ll pay the price, now that’s a given.
We all kicked off our shoes.
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues.
I was a lonely teenage Bronco’s shmuck
With an Elway boss and a pickup truck,
But I knew we were out of luck
The day that football died.
I started singin’,
bye-bye, Mr Commissioner guy
Drove my RV to the stadium
But the party was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, “this’ll be the day the league dies
This’ll be the day the league dies
Now for ten weeks we’ve been on our own
And rookies grow fat when they’re all alone
But that’s not how it used to be.
When Ryan sang for his fetish queen
In a car he borrowed from James Dean
And a voice that came from you and me,
And while the Commish was looking down,
Smith came and stole his thorny crown.
The courtroom was adjourned;
No verdict was ever returned.
And while Harrison read a book of rules
The judges played us like some fools
And we drank light beer by the pool
The day that football died.
We were singing,
bye-bye, Mr Commissioner guy
Drove my RV to the stadium
But the party was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, “this’ll be the day the league dies
“this’ll be the day the league dies
Helter skelter in a summer swelter.
Legal filings fell like a fallout shelter,
A hundred yards high and falling fast.
And they landed foul smelling on the grass.
The players tried for a forward pass,
With the owners on the sidelines in a cast.
Now the draft-time air was sweet perfume
While the lawyers played a hardship tune.
We all got up to dance
Oh, but we never got the chance!
`cause the players tried to take the field;
But the owners stood and refused to yield.
Do you recall what was the feel?
The day that football died
We started singing,
bye-bye, Mr Commissioner guy
Drove my RV to the stadium
But the party was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, “this’ll be the day the league dies
“this’ll be the day the league dies
Oh, and there we were all in one place,
A bunch of fans lost in space
With no time left to start again.
So come on: Smith be nimble, Smith be quick!
DeMaurice sat on a candlestick
Cause fire is the lawyer’s only friend.
Oh, and as we watched him on the stage
Our hands were clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in hell
Could break that bastard’s spell.
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial fight
I saw Smith laughing with delight
The day that football died
He was singing,
bye-bye, Mr Commissioner guy
Drove my RV to the stadium
But the party was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, “this’ll be the day the league dies
“this’ll be the day the league dies
I met a Seagal who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news,
But she just frowned and turned away.
So I went down to the field of war
Where I’d seen the games some years before,
But the man there said the games wouldn’t play.
And in the streets, the fans just screamed,
The mothers cried, and the players dreamed.
But not a word was spoken;
The trusting times all were broken.
And the three men I admire herewith,
The Commish, the Owners, and the guy named Smith,
They dropped the last pass from Alex Smith
The day that football died.
And they were singing,
bye-bye, Mr Commissioner guy
Drove my RV to the stadium
But the party was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, “this’ll be the day the league dies
“this’ll be the day the league dies
