Dry Your Eyes Becks (Comedy)

I’m just standing there, I can’t say a word
Cos everythings just gone, I’ve got nothing – absolutely nothing

In one single moment your life can turn around
In the distance I see Wayne Rooney falling to the ground
Looks like he’s gonna give it, then looks like he’s not
Then finally the referee is pointing to the spot
It all comes down to this then its like everybody says
As I stare into the eyes of Fabien Barthez
Will I go left? – will I go right? – haven’t decided yet
Sod it - I’ll just stick the thing in the back of the bloody net
I let fly with my right boot, my whole world begins to freeze
I’m begging the silver ball “please go in, please”
I see a Union Jack in the air as someone waves it
But my whole world’s in despair cos Barthez saves it

Chorus (Sung By Roy Keane):
Dry your eyes mate,
I know its hard to take but obviously as I said before like,
There’s plenty more games in Group B
Dry your eyes mate,
You’ll have a chance to polish up against the Swiss on Thursday
Or at the end of the day like, it’s over…

Then the lads start looking at me as if I’ve committed a crime
But we’re still one-nil up going into injury time
The ref checks his watch and we all look at the clocks
Then Heskey commits a foul on the edge of our box
We all regroup and make a wall, stand there hand in hand
There’s no sign of posh at all anywhere in the stand
We all know what they’re gonna do – it can only be one man
They all call him Zizu – his name is Zinedine Zidane
I wonder if he remembers how in the tunnel I gave him a kiss
I wonder if it’ll please, please, please make him miss
But he sticks it in the net - which means now we’re all level
Now all I’ve got left are the tears of Gary Neville

Chorus:
Dry your eyes mate,
I know its hard to take but obviously as I said before like,
There’s plenty more games in Group B
Dry your eyes mate,
You’ll have a chance to prove yourself against the Swiss on Thursday
Or at the end of the day like, it’s over…

We’re all over the shop, when will the ref blow the whistle?
We’re not playing like England no more – more like Patrick Thistle
We need a pep talk, a speech, a helping hand, a sermon
Cos we’re not getting nothing from this ref who just happens to be German
There he goes again giving out the yellow card
When suddenly the ball breaks to Steven Gerrard
I see the hopes of a nation all going up in flames
With a lunge of desperation from our ‘keeper David James
The ref points to the spot – God I’ll give you a million quid
If you please, please, please make Zidane do what I did
But he sticks it in the net- how could I think he would miss?
Cos I’m starting to regret giving Zidane that kiss

Chorus:
Dry your eyes mate,
I know its hard to take but obviously as I said before like,
There’s plenty more games in Group B
Dry your eyes mate,
You’ll have a chance to prove yourself against the Swiss on Thursday
Or at the end of the day like, it’s over…