Wounded Pride

Wounded Pride

Whence mighty heights, Chelsea fell,
A tale of agony to tell,
Their once revered position gone,
A shadow cast, how far they’ve drawn.

Oh, Conor Gallagher, beacon bright,
Through struggle’s haze, a shining light,
Amidst the chaos, you still shine,
A glimmer of hope, a spark divine.

In glorious past, their triumphs sang,
But now their fame is but a pang,
The glory days have turned to dust,
In this abyss, they’ve lost their trust.

Oh loyal fans, so faithful true,
Through thick and thin, we stand with you,
But oh, the pain, the bitter sting,
To witness this sad, wretched thing.

Yet in this darkness, hope remains,
For from the ashes, strength sustains,
Perhaps one day, their light shall burn,
A phoenix rising, lessons learned.

So let us pray, with heart sincere,
For Chelsea’s fortunes to draw near,
May they reclaim their rightful place,
And rise again with fire and grace.