In Munich’s halls the place the banners fly,The kings of pink maintain court docket on excessive,A brand new man got here with a gradual hand,To form the destiny of the proud outdated land.
Max Eberl got here with a builder’s dream,To carve the squad and forge the group,But within the shadows, the elder’s phrase,Nonetheless lower as sharp as a battle-sword.
Uli’s fireplace, a crimson flame,No rival dare to dim his identify,But progress knocks on the outdated oak door,Whose voice shall echo forevermore?
In Säbener’s rooms, the whispers rise,Of energy shared, or veiled goodbyes,The membership of stars, so wealthy, so extensive,Should select its path, should select its information.
Oh sing of Bayern, daring and grand,With iron hearts and guiding hand,However when two voices declare the throne,The crown feels heavy, the seeds are sown.



























Arsenal




































.jpg?w=120&resize=120,86&ssl=1)








