Beaten by
underdogs on the 14th of May
But fortunes
were back and Wembley in sight
The cup
ribbons dancing, in red and in white
It was fifteenth of April, the year 1989
The spring
morning sparkled, not a hint nor a sign
Of the
twisting and darkening map of their fate
The
nightmare of Hillsborough, lying in wait
Fans made
their way there, however they could
Tickets in
hand, Red in their blood
But road
works and searches littered the way
And fans in
their thousands were mired in delay
The clock
hands sped forwards, it was 2 p.m.
Crowd
numbers swelling, Police struggled to stem
A red mass
of people, a cacophony of sound
Moving as
one, as it entered the ground
But ten thousand
bodies had nowhere to go
Stuck in a
bottleneck, seized in the flow
A tidal wave
of red, the lust of the game
Desperately
surging, then handed the blame
But falsehoods
obscured the truth of neglect
The Police
failed those they were there to protect
Men, women,
children, hooligans to them
The youngest
to pay, a boy of just ten
Survivors have
spoken, down through the years
Of lives
destroyed, grown men in tears
And the
years may pass but the memories remain
Of the
horror that day in Leppings Lane
Panic and
crush and unspeakable terror
Hysterical
frenzy and rising pressure
Thousands struggling,
fighting to survive
As 96 lost
and paid with their lives
Hundreds
more were wounded in battle
Trapped in
the pens and treated like cattle
And the
match was stopped at six minutes past three
As the fans
in their prison finally broke free
Fans not
police were the heroes that day
As they
rallied and fought in the midst of the fray
Waiting for
help that would never arrive
While battling
to keep their families alive
Loved ones
back home prayed for relief
While others
in Sheffield collapsed in their grief
And a mother
is forbidden from touching her son
The decades
of cover-up already begun
As the
Police were determined to hide from their shame
And the
battle-scarred fans were easy to frame
They forced
the gates, they were out of control
They were
drunk, they were violent, the lies that were told
So with
flowers spanning the Anfield pitch
And Red and
Blue uniting for the 96
The Sun was poisoning
the names of the dead
Twisting the
knife in the wounds that bled
Accidental
death the authorities claimed
Politicians,
police, defiant, unashamed
And though the
Taylor Report gave hope to the bereaved
For twenty
three years they were never believed
But truth
not vengeance was the treasure they sought
And they were
mocked and scorned but still they fought
For they
would never give up on the souls above
In a
tremendous tale of enduring love
And in
September last year came a ray of light
Like a
beacon of hope that burned in the night
And the dawn
is breaking, the agony past
As the truth
sweeps away the lies at last
The
story of Hillsborough does not end here
As the
final verdict is yet unclear
But as long
as the flame is burning bright
THE PEOPLE
OF LIVERPOOL WILL CONTINUE TO FIGHT!
~~~
Dedicated to my Nan Sue who passed away on 8 April 2013 and would never hear a word said against Liverpool, my Grandad who passed away on 5 December 2012 and always supported the fight for justice, and of course the 96. RIP.
