It's the passion ,
That pins us in front of the television.
Regardless of any mounting tension,
The results will always bring an ultimate conclusion.
It's the spirit ,
That makes me feel the heat ,
The mounting pressure ,
Of that penalty kick being taken so sure,
Then , the ball is being saved ,
" Why , the ball that the goal so craved ! "
Tears can be seen flowing ,
I don't know how much , but I seem to be owing .
Cold hard cash being seen as trash ,
Being transferred , forever , from stash to stash .
That final showdown ,
A hard earned place everyone did not look down.
In that fateful day ,
They will not care , just play .
All their strength , all seeping out ,
" I'm being tackled ! " one player shouts .
Attack by attack the shots missed the goal .
Then Torres shot the winning goal ,
Cheers and whines can be heard everywhere ,
From pubs to houses ,
To countries , where the presidents stare ,
At the TV screen , Mr Shebby Singh ,
The man that speaks like a tabby sings ,
"I think the playing style is not too bad.." ,
"Not as bad as the Malaysian fags ."
And this is how everything ended ,
Sad or happy ,who will care ,
Families back to normal ,
The husbands all in trauma ,
Is this how it will all end ?
Wives are happy ,
" My husbands not mad afterall , " they say .
What lies in the hearts of men they will never know ,
Until they see that winning goal ,
Their husbands jumping like stepping on coal ,
Then only will they know ,
About the mans true soul ......
