Grafik: Jabs

I can see your silhouette from where I sit
Not all of your garden lights are properly lit

Now, I was the one suppose to go on the attack
You are in the house with our old centreback

He learned the secret of a good sales pitch
My sources tell me that he’s filthy rich

You mistook me for the painter at the private view
I was merely standing in the champagne queue

But if you think I look good in a beret
Then I’d be more than happy
To be there and to get the chance to say
That art just imitates football

Now, from my view here behind the tree

It’s easy to see why it’s him and not me

A towering figure projected on the shade
Our centreback he was never afraid

Now, I was never much of a number nine
And I thought I was too bright for the assembly line

You mistook me for the painter at the private view
I was merely standing in the alcohol queue

But if you think I look good in a beret
Then I’d be more than happy
To be there and to get the chance to say
That life just imitates football