Lightning atmosphere,
Screaming at top of their voices,
All coloured in blue,
But still not unanimous,
An acute quietness,
Like a sudden pause of time,
Someone's down,
A mighty fall for the disgusted soul,
Everyone is shocked,
There's a furore in the pitch,
The guard questions the three wise men,
Two of them are clueless,
Only the third knows what the claim is for,
Half a lac men in blue await the decision,
With silence,
There's slight justification,
No agitation,
At last the colour is red,
With no emotions revealed,
A tall figure walk to the sideline,
for the last time he walks in his colors,
To which he brought glory eight years back,
He was a rookie then,
But a veteran now,
He walks,
He walks,
No glance at the glory,
Which he brought home eight years back,
The world captures,
His calm persona,
Which he set loose for a moment,
All hopes down for half the men in blue,
But the veteran is still a legend,
A legend for LES BLUES.
