The Boy in the Cage They would pair us up helmet to helmet In a kind of cage meant to teach us To stay low coming out of our stances. On the cage stood Irv Olson, Who liked to scream, “You gotta be the meanest son of a bitch in the valley!” “What the hell valley’s he talking about?” We laughed. But in the cage we said nothing, Our mouths full of mouth guards Specific to our teeth. We hardly breathed, Listening for the whistle. I can stop time now, make
The Boy in the Cage
The Boy in the Cage
The Boy in the Cage
The Boy in the Cage They would pair us up helmet to helmet In a kind of cage meant to teach us To stay low coming out of our stances. On the cage stood Irv Olson, Who liked to scream, “You gotta be the meanest son of a bitch in the valley!” “What the hell valley’s he talking about?” We laughed. But in the cage we said nothing, Our mouths full of mouth guards Specific to our teeth. We hardly breathed, Listening for the whistle. I can stop time now, make