[Verse 1: Macklemore]
I used to sit with my dad in the garage
The sawdust, that Pinesol, and the moss
Around every spring, when the winter thawed
We'd huddle around the radio, twist the broken knob
710 AM, no KJR
Dave Niehaus's voice would echo throughout the yard
Couldn't have been older than 10, but to me and my friends
The voice on the other end might as well have been God's
1995, the Division Series
Edgar's up to bat, bottom of the 11th inning
Got the whole town listening, "Swung on and belted!"
The words distorted, "Joey Cora rounds third!"
"Here comes Griffey! The throw to the plate's not in time!"
"My, oh my, the Mariners win it!" Yes!
Fireworks, they lit up that ceiling in the Kingdome
We had just made history
[Interlude: Dave Niehaus]
"Swung on and lined down the left field line for a base hit! Here comes Joey! Here is Junior to third base! They're gonna wave him in! The throw to the plate will be… late! The Mariners are going to play for the American League Championship! I don't believe it! It just continues! My, oh my!"
[Verse 2: Macklemore]
Laces woven, barely holdin' that stitch
Creases of time amongst the grime and the grit
Where the leather he used to pound his fists
To some it's just a mitt, but see that glove was him
Yep, tell me stories on the field, with that sun-stained brim
Blood under my chin, he taught me how to spit
Sunflower seeds back with me and my crew
Sunburnt arms, Big League Chew
Yeah, we were like The Sandlot after dinner, after practice we'd listen
To the M's in the kitchen, and if mom wasn't trippin'
"Come on dad! Please, I swear, just one more inning!"
Voice went pump-pump through the system
"Break out the rye bread! It's grand salami time!"
"My, oh my! Another victory!" Yes!
My city, my city, childhood, my life
Watchin' Griffey right under those lights
I used to sit with my dad in the garage
The sawdust, that Pinesol, and the moss
Around every spring, when the winter thawed
We'd huddle around the radio, twist the broken knob
710 AM, no KJR
Dave Niehaus's voice would echo throughout the yard
Couldn't have been older than 10, but to me and my friends
The voice on the other end might as well have been God's
1995, the Division Series
Edgar's up to bat, bottom of the 11th inning
Got the whole town listening, "Swung on and belted!"
The words distorted, "Joey Cora rounds third!"
"Here comes Griffey! The throw to the plate's not in time!"
"My, oh my, the Mariners win it!" Yes!
Fireworks, they lit up that ceiling in the Kingdome
We had just made history
[Interlude: Dave Niehaus]
"Swung on and lined down the left field line for a base hit! Here comes Joey! Here is Junior to third base! They're gonna wave him in! The throw to the plate will be… late! The Mariners are going to play for the American League Championship! I don't believe it! It just continues! My, oh my!"
[Verse 2: Macklemore]
Laces woven, barely holdin' that stitch
Creases of time amongst the grime and the grit
Where the leather he used to pound his fists
To some it's just a mitt, but see that glove was him
Yep, tell me stories on the field, with that sun-stained brim
Blood under my chin, he taught me how to spit
Sunflower seeds back with me and my crew
Sunburnt arms, Big League Chew
Yeah, we were like The Sandlot after dinner, after practice we'd listen
To the M's in the kitchen, and if mom wasn't trippin'
"Come on dad! Please, I swear, just one more inning!"
Voice went pump-pump through the system
"Break out the rye bread! It's grand salami time!"
"My, oh my! Another victory!" Yes!
My city, my city, childhood, my life
Watchin' Griffey right under those lights
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