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The dance occurs with finesse and grace
A game of battles no longer exists
Creating wonder on this heavenly plain
Balls are cruised in with style and pace
A yearning for perfection often persists
This pitch of purity marked by no stain.
Leave a comment on verse 2 0
Anger boils up and quickly explodes
Harsh tackles are made one step too far
The ref loses control in all the madness
The sight of fair play rapidly errodes
Fury as cold and hard as the crossbar
These visions of atrocity inducing sadness.