From a distance the team is blue and red,
And the road jerseys white.
From a distance the D makes the pass,
And the forwards take to flight.
From a distance, there is harmony,
And it echoes through to Hank.
It's the voice of hope, it's the voice of sense,
It's AV's voice to every man.
From a distance the team has enough,
And no stud D we need.
And there are no Staals, no Zuccs, and no McDs,
No bad Shatty's knee.
From a distance we are four lines strong
Marching in a common band.
Playing on offense, playing on defense.
They're the zones of every man.
Hockey Gods are watching us. Hockey gods are watching us.
Hockey Gods are watching us from a distance.