The Angry Fan
¶ 1
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He’s paid his money, he’s made the trip
The opponent’s colours make him sick
He points, he screams, he waves, he moans
Those around him start to groan.
¶ 2
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This is not passion, just anger raw
But his expletives oft do bore
Does he know how to relax
And get off their toiling backs?
¶ 3
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He knows the tactics are all wrong
He knows the players that don’t belong
He sees the balls that should be played
He covers every single blade.
¶ 4
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Desperate to get his voice heard
But all the games that had occurred
As he watched he was distraught,
Not as perfect as his thoughts.
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