sunday mOurnin' comin' down

I tuned in Sunday afternoon,
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
The Mother’s Day Massacre was oh-so Bad,
And the DC debacle had been, even worse.
Then I fumbled through my closet for my Os hat,
And donned my cleanest dirty shirt.

An' I shaved my face and combed my hair,
An' turned on MLB.tv, to see the game.
I'd seen it happen twice before,
Late-inning disasters and poor relief pitchin’
But I figure how could it happen again?
Surely butts in Anaheim would get a kickin’

Then we crossed into the late innings
and Wayward O caught the sight of someone going to the bullpen.
And it took me back to somethin',
That I’d seen twice before, somewhere along the way.

On the Sunday evening gamecast,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cos there's something in a Sunday,
Makes an Os fan feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sunny green baseball diamond:
Sunday mournin' comin' down.

In the park I saw Vladdy,
With a laughin' little grin and a bat that he was swingin'.
And I held my breath to watch the ninth,
And pray Orioles could escape the innin;
Then I watched the slugger heading home
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'.
And it echoed through the ballpark,
Like the disappearing dreams of Jeremy Guthrie

(sing it with the Wayward O…)

On the Sunday evening gamecast,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cos there's something in a Sunday,
Makes an Os fan feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sunny green baseball diamond:
Sunday mournin' comin' down.

with apOlogies to johnny cash and kris kristofferson...