From the ceiling fall our banners, in tatters and shreds. We are being pelted with two sets of championship rings as we pout and declare the season dead. Everything has been lost, and it won’t be recovered. All because our team couldn’t get bounces out of vulcanized rubber.
Board up the windows and pack up the house. Los Angeles faces a tiny deficit and will surely be bounced. After all, this team has never overcome adversity right after getting trounced.
Bested by Gaudreau and Monahan and Hudler. Beaten by Sedins and Vrbata and Edler. There’s no climbing out of a hole this deep. Those notorious heartbreakers, out without a peep.
The sky has fallen. This guy has fallen. Their schedule’s too hard, they’ll lose to the Oilers. The Flames are too good, those typical basement toilers.
Players once proud have taken a spill. All the Kings can do is foot the bill. A window once open, slammed to its sill. Or maybe y’all just need to chill.
The Kings are still good, we’ve said it before. Chicago has dealt our team losses that we’ve had to endure.
Sure, they could miss, and this ride could be done. Still, though, this all has been really fun. I won’t preach and tell you to believe, but six games is enough for a spot to be retrieved.
