The Beautiful Game

in the middle of the universe, I stand fearless goalkeeper, and soccer is the heavens, the brew in which we play, this open turf, these twenty two players and the thirty thousand serenading us, like obedient Godless angels; make us complete, unlike any other, we drive the battle hard and fast, dogs of war; unleashed, savage and without quarter then, when the whistle's shrill starts to count, and men retreat to bathe their pride, or bask in laurelled-glory, deep inside, we, a marching, playing, victorious band, with my comrades, hand in hand, in the middle of the universe I stand