As it rolls off the press, it prepares for the dark foil dwelling.
Bump, Bump, Bump, as it travels to the shop.
Bump, Bump, Bump as it goes to the show.
Bump, Bump, Bump, as it goes to the shop.
As time goes by, the chances go down.
I hear the collectors walking by.
We aren’t all the same.
Will anyone discover the treasure thats beneath the foil?
Filed under: Thoughts | Tagged: baseball, card, foil, life, pack, poem, sports, unpulled |
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