In the year twenty, twenty five, if Joe is still alive...

In the year twenty twenty-five,
If Joe is still alive, 
If Cashman can survive, we may find...

In the year twenty twenty-five...
Ain't gonna to tell the truth, tell no lies,
Everything you think, do and say
'Pends on what Greg Bird did today.

In the year twenty twenty-five...
Won't need no John and Suzyn as our eyes,
Gonna be gettin' tired o' the wait
Sitting 'round for Dillon Tate.

In the year twenty twenty-five...
Chapman's arm hangin' limp at his side,
Girardi's got no one to close
Dietrich Enns - good as it goes...

In the year twenty twenty-five...
Might have to bring George back to life,
To get a true free agent fix,
And finally quit on Aaron Hicks.

In the year twenty-one-ten...
If Jeet's returning, he oughta make it by then,
He'll look around at this Yankee hell
And say, "Guess it's time for Hal to sell."
Woah woah.

Through this eternal sludge,
Still candles lit for Aaron Judge,
Somewhere out there, that Yankee team.
It's still twenty seventeen...