Bellowing instructions from the touchline, that's my dad
Purple in the face, getting really mad
Man on, man on
An empty stadium yells, "man on"
Come on, come on
The cross goes sailing wildly over the heads of everyone
"Stop fannying around, keep it nice and simple"
"You're not Lionel Messi, just pass the bloody ball"
Man on, man on
An empty stadium yells, "man on"
Come on, come on
The cross goes sailing wildly over the heads of everyone
Perhaps, we were expecting this to be a walk in the park
But these bastards from King's Priory are kicking lumps out of us
Man on, man on
An empty stadium yells, "man on"
Come on, come on
The cross goes sailing wildly over the heads
Their left back slips taking a free kick
It trickles over the mud straight to me
In desperation, he scrambles and slides
I leap the flailing leg and dink it
Over the sprawled body of the goalie
The net is gaping
The ball takes a bobble and I slice wide of the mark
Everything goes quiet
Staring into the red dark of my palms
They launch a long ball into our box
Suddenly, we find ourselves with a corner to defend
I am on the near-post
Somehow, it gets bundled underneath my feet
At the final whistle, I am inconsolable
Man on, man on
I reckon dad is really disappointed with me
Come on, come on
He tries his best to not show how he really feels
In the car home, he says "dust yourself down
Move on to next week's game
Shall we pick up a Chinese or would you rather fish and chips?"
Richard Dawson - Two Halves Lyrics
Richard Dawson - Two Halves Lyrics
Official
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Bellowing instructions from the touchline, that's my dad
Purple in the face, getting really mad
Man on, man on
An empty stadium yells, "man on"
Come on, come on
The cross goes sailing wildly over the heads of everyone
"Stop fannying around, keep it nice and simple"
"You're not Lionel Messi, just pass the bloody ball"
Man on, man on
An empty stadium yells, "man on"
Come on, come on
The cross goes sailing wildly over the heads of everyone
Perhaps, we were expecting this to be a walk in the park
But these bastards from King's Priory are kicking lumps out of us
Man on, man on
An empty stadium yells, "man on"
Come on, come on
The cross goes sailing wildly over the heads
Their left back slips taking a free kick
It trickles over the mud straight to me
In desperation, he scrambles and slides
I leap the flailing leg and dink it
Over the sprawled body of the goalie
The net is gaping
The ball takes a bobble and I slice wide of the mark
Everything goes quiet
Staring into the red dark of my palms
They launch a long ball into our box
Suddenly, we find ourselves with a corner to defend
I am on the near-post
Somehow, it gets bundled underneath my feet
At the final whistle, I am inconsolable
Man on, man on
I reckon dad is really disappointed with me
Come on, come on
He tries his best to not show how he really feels
In the car home, he says "dust yourself down
Move on to next week's game
Shall we pick up a Chinese or would you rather fish and chips?"
Purple in the face, getting really mad
Man on, man on
An empty stadium yells, "man on"
Come on, come on
The cross goes sailing wildly over the heads of everyone
"Stop fannying around, keep it nice and simple"
"You're not Lionel Messi, just pass the bloody ball"
Man on, man on
An empty stadium yells, "man on"
Come on, come on
The cross goes sailing wildly over the heads of everyone
Perhaps, we were expecting this to be a walk in the park
But these bastards from King's Priory are kicking lumps out of us
Man on, man on
An empty stadium yells, "man on"
Come on, come on
The cross goes sailing wildly over the heads
Their left back slips taking a free kick
It trickles over the mud straight to me
In desperation, he scrambles and slides
I leap the flailing leg and dink it
Over the sprawled body of the goalie
The net is gaping
The ball takes a bobble and I slice wide of the mark
Everything goes quiet
Staring into the red dark of my palms
They launch a long ball into our box
Suddenly, we find ourselves with a corner to defend
I am on the near-post
Somehow, it gets bundled underneath my feet
At the final whistle, I am inconsolable
Man on, man on
I reckon dad is really disappointed with me
Come on, come on
He tries his best to not show how he really feels
In the car home, he says "dust yourself down
Move on to next week's game
Shall we pick up a Chinese or would you rather fish and chips?"
Writer: Richard Michael Dawson
Copyright: Lyrics © DOMINO PUBLISHING COMPANY
Copyright: Lyrics © DOMINO PUBLISHING COMPANY