We all have moments, of madness, and we loss our heads,
We get road rage, and we see red,
We get angry and frustrated, a hundered times a day,
but we don't all kick somebody, we don't get our way, we don't get our way.

And as for David Beckham, full of that raw aggression,
it only took a second, on the ground,
I don't know what made him do it,
theres no rhyme or reason to it,
but before we knew it, he'd let us all down,
he'd let us all down.

You see your life in, slow motion, inside your head, in the moment before they prononce you dead,
Its like a prime time compelation, of the mistakes you've made in your life,
and the worst one, yes they've got it, and there showing it tonight,
there showing it tonight.

And i pity that David Beckham, i know how he feels i reckon,
knowing that one impression, can never be erased,
And every night he'll dream it, wishing he didn't feel it,
and hoping the time will heal it, one day,
one day

But despite the pain hes going through,
despite the depth he's going to,
he's still got so much going for him that BARSTARD,
With 8 million in the bank account,
and a Spice girl of his own to mount,
I have to say, the boy can play,
but no man is an island,
he can't hide behind the screen,
and everything does, has reeped, percustions on the team,
were all in that team.

And as for David Beckham, I hope he's Learn't his lesson,
Cause it felt like armagedon, it was such a shame.
Bring his head on a plata, say thanks for the dream you shattered, don't tell me it doesn't matter and its only a game.
Though we shouldn't hold unlucky old Beckham to blame,

We can't blame Batty,
We can't blame Ince,
We can't blame Owen or Shearer,
We can't blame Seaman or Neville or Campbell or Adams or Anderton neither,
We can't blame Scholes
We can't blame Le Saux
We can't blame Baddiel or Skinner
We can't blame Gazza for going on a raza,
we were never gonna be the winner,
we were never gonna be the winner.

And as for David Beckham, he's lying low i reckon,
hoping to be forgiven, but he feels so low.
Feel the weight on his shoulders,
an army of wounded soldiers,
on the ferry home,
were coming home.

Add to playlist Size Tab Print Correct