Friday, May 09, 2008

On 5th may 2008...

Liam Harker lost his fight with cancer, and passed away at 4pm. No miracle, even though i'm sure many are wishing for it deep down inside, me included.

The famous quote from Bill Shankly, "football is much more important than life and death" caused quite a debate when people die.

Of course it gets put into perspective when you see a kid as young as 17 year old dying of cancer, but what did he wish for during his remaining days alive? To put on the famous red shirt and be buried together with it.

When hillsborough tragedy struck, what happened? The only remedy to it, a soccer match dedicated to the 96, for the club they so dearly loved and lost their lives supporting.

Liam harker my friend, although we have never met, your actions and bravery have touched all reds worldwide. You reminded us, the fans, the players, and the idiots in control what the liverpool shirt is all about, and what it represents when we wear it, be it out in the streets, or in our Anfield fortress supporting our club. You taught us all an invaluable lesson, and we will never forget it till we draw our last breath. A shame though that we couldn't win it for you to march on to Moscow. Now that you're free from pain, i'm sure you'll be watching and blessing us from above with shanks and pais and co., to win number 19th next season.


1990-2008

When you walk through a storm
hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark.
At the end of a storm is a golden sky

And the sweet silver song of a lark.
Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown.

Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never, ever walk alone.
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart

And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never, ever walk alone.

Return this man to Huma's breast
Beyond the wild, impartial skies;
Grant to him a warrior's rest
And set the last spark of his eyes
Free from the smothering clouds of wars,
Upon the torches of stars.
Let the last surge of his breath
Take refuge in the cradling air
Above the dreams of ravens, where
Only the hawk remembers death.
Then let his shade to Huma rise,
Beyond the wild, impartial skies.

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