BMO VOICEMAIL

[Verse 1]
Yo, it's Kai. Standing on the cracked concrete at Morningside Park, it's June, twenty-six.
Got the number nineteen ghosted on my back, I can still feel the fabric from way back when.
The turf burns cold through the sole of my Tims, thinking 'bout you boys walking out the tunnel, BMO din.
They put us in with the Swiss, the clockwork mandem, thinkin' it's a cakewalk, they don't understand it.
This ain't '86 highlights on a grainy old tape, this is red on the shirt, putting blood on the landscape.
My pops texted, "The ball is round, son" – yeah, I know the speech.
But this one feels different, this one's in our reach.
This is for the kids on the TTC dreaming of the pitch, the ones who saw us get zero and never made a switch.

[Pre-Chorus]
And the bass from the supporter section starts to bleed through the phone static...
Feel the concrete start to tremble, man, this city's gone dramatic...
Yeah, the whole diaspora's boarding flights, no need to pack it...
They just got the red shirt on 'em, that's the only baggage.

[Chorus]
Home soil, final whistle, this is our time now.
Red and white on our shoulders, shut the whole world down.
From the east coast to the west, they can hear the sound.
Home soil, final whistle, this is our time now.

[Verse 2]
Remember training sessions, breath fogging up the dome?
Now Alphonso's on the wing, sending defenders home.
That's that counter-attack venom, that Buchanan pace, that look on David's face before he puts it in its place.
This that fearless on the break, this ain't parking the bus.
This is for the Voyageurs who always put their trust.
In a team that the suits and the pundits tried to bury deep.
Now they biting their tongues every promise that we keep.
Jesse's got the tactics locked, a two-footed challenge to the doubt.
They gave us Qatar in the group, we're here to air them out.

[Pre-Chorus]
And the bass from the supporter section starts to bleed through the phone static...
Feel the concrete start to tremble, man, this city's gone dramatic...
Yeah, the whole diaspora's boarding flights, no need to pack it...
They just got the red shirt on 'em, that's the only baggage.

[Chorus]
Home soil, final whistle, this is our time now.
Red and white on our shoulders, shut the whole world down.
From the east coast to the west, they can hear the sound.
Home soil, final whistle, this is our time now.

[Bridge]
Ninety minutes on the clock, but this is for a lifetime.
Stoppage time is our time, this is the perfect lifeline.
Look, just… just bring it home, for all of us who couldn't.

[Outro]
Yeah. Call me back after the win.
Red. And. White.