MEN OF MY DREAMS
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THEY SAY “WHEN YOU’VE GOT A MAN IT’S HEAVEN”
WHAT THEY DON’T KNOW IS , I’VE GOT ELEVEN.
AND NO ONE COULD MAKE ME FEEL AS GREAT
AS TONY ADAMS IN ’98.
NO SENSITIVE SIDE OR CHISELLED JAW
COULD BE AS GOOD AS THE HIGHBURY ROAR.
NOBODY COULD TEAR MY HEART AWAY
FROM CUP FINAL FEVER IN EARLY MAY.
NO CHAMPAGNE DINNER OR ROMANTIC LIGHT
COULD MATCH MY BOYS IN RED AND WHITE.
NO CASANOVA COULD BREAK MY HEART AS BADLY
AS MICHAEL OWEN AND HIS TWO GOAL RALLY.
I THOUGHT WE WERE THERE, I THOUGHT WE HAD WON,
WHEN FROM ONE-NIL UP, WE LOST TWO-ONE.
THAT TORTUROUS FEELING OF LOSING THE CUP
COULDN’T BE BEATEN BY BEING STOOD UP,
OR BEING DUMPED, OR LEFT AT THE ALTAR
IN FACT, I WOULD TAKE THAT IF WE COULD SLAUGHTER
MAN. UNITED IN THE CHAMPIONS LEAGUE FINAL
NO WESTLIFE BALLAD, SLOW DANCE OR LIONEL
RICHIE LOVE SONG COULD SOUND AS SERENE
AS ‘WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS’, ORIGINALLY BY QUEEN
BUT ADOPTED BY GOONERS, AND ME AND MY DAD
AND EVERY OTHER ARSENAL CLAD
SUPPORTER WHO FEELS JUST THE SAME
AND WOULD SNUB J-LO’S BUM AND BRAD PITT’S FAME
WHO WOULD SACRIFICE A ‘SOULMATE’ AND ‘FINDING THE ONE’
TO WATCH THE ARSENAL GO MARCHING ON.
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