A sea of blue shirts run to the street,
fists raised high.
They chant for redemption.
Blue uniforms march in,
shields held high,
to protect themselves,
from what is held in those fists not raised.
Their wives sit at home
wondering if they will see him tonight.
While their child looks up at them
with lollipops in their mouths.
While underneath the same sky,
a blue-eyed reporter tells the world
that their fight is wrong.