All the fighting talk is over
Whilst the egos have gone home
And the bloke they left to the preying press
Sits indoors, beside a silent phone.
The smug stars in their mansions
Make out that they’re sad
After being offered a kings ransom
To win one vital match.
“If the injured blokes had played
I’m sure we would have won”.
No we wouldn’t and the truth is mate
We just ain’t good enough!
Croatia should have murdered us
Knocked us down and stopped us in our tracks
Anything else would have been a put up job
That would barely hide the cracks!
They talk the fighting talk like men
These egos we’ve made rich
But as before, they once again
Delude us on the pitch!