Football and Breakfast
Here we go it’s kick off time, your mmouth is dry
The hairs on the back of your neck try touching the sky
It’s the worst bit you can think of any part of a game
You can hear all those people singing your name
You open your eyes realizing no dream it’s true
So what is the next thing thay you’re going to do
Call for the sub not ‘cos’ of injury it’s your mum calling you
You’ve got to go in because it is breakfast time
And it gives me the chance to end this little rhyme
