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Saturday, 30 April 2016

96

96 People went to watch a football game and didn’t come home

96

When God falls to Earth he’ll be a football fan.
He’ll stand in the press with the ordinary man.
He’ll shoulder his way up front to squash the wire.
And shake his head at every liar.
You’d better hope your fingers ain’t besmirched
With rotten soil and bloody grass.
He’ll weep with every dad, every mum and nan.
Because when he falls, he’s a football fan.


When God falls to Earth, he’ll know the score
and he’ll chant from the stands at the blood and gore.
Call yourself Bobby? You’re not fit to wear the shirt,
You’re not fit to wear the shirt,
your hands are smeared in blood and dirt.
And you turned the key that loosed the lock,
released the dam that sluiced the lot
and in fucking hell you will rot.
I weep with every dad, every mum and nan.
Because when I fall, I’m a football fan.


When God falls to Earth he’ll bring his gun.
Lock, load and smite the fucking scum
who smelt wine on the lips of the congregation.
Singing hymns as they got off the train at the station.
Can we play you every week?
Can we play you every week?
You wrote your stinking columns in the press
as the singing souls were laid to their rest.
He’ll weep with every dad, every mum and nan.
Because when he falls, he’s a football fan.


When God falls to Earth, he won’t forgive
those who let lies breed and live.
Who watched parents choke and fight for air,
And smeared the ones that love and care.
He knows who you are and he can see
that you’re not fit to referee.
You’re not fit to referee.
And did you hear the Liverpool sing?
You didn’t hear a fucking thing.
Rip out your tongues and see you burn
And though we’ll never ever learn:
He’ll sing with every dad, every mum and nan.
Because we are all, all of us, only football fans.