“Not For Me”
¶ 1
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I can’t understand the excitement
It’s not the same
For me the Sky TV generation
Must take the blame.
But Then I’m a bit
Of a sporting Luddite at heart
Original football dinosaur
Boring old school fart.
The modern World Cup’s
About corporate greed
And seeing how much out of a fan
They can bleed.
Cost price of a ticket
What you once paid a tout
Now you need to be a City high flyer
To have that sort of clout.
The only time you’re allowed
Out of your stadium chair
Is jumping up Mexican Wave
Hands in the air.
But dare show passion
And stand on your seat
The stewards will throw you
Straight out on the street.
Long gone are the days when
World Cup football
Was for the working class man
Now it’s your rugger type
City wide boys
Topping up their
Manufactured tan.
Atmosphere made up
Trumpet and drum
Join in with face paint
To look a total plum.
Dare to display passion
Scream and swear
“I say, cut that out, old chap
There’s children there”
Well balls to all that!
NOT in my name
I don’t want MY football
Sanitised and tame.
I’m from the generation
Who wore football on our sleeve
This respecatable modern version
You can take it…I’ll leave!
The asylum’s been taken over
By corporate boys on a jolly
No place for pissed up fans
Only high spirited off their trolley.
Even though still love England
It’s not my game anymore
As I pine for the terraces
You know the score.
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