Can you hear it?
Not that anybody presses so,
But still,
There they are.
Their obnoxious shouting,
With twitching countenances,
A purely inconceivable demeanor
Consisting of nothing
But insanity,
Lust,
And overall
Ravenousness.
They used to walk,
Walk inside,
And back out again
Ever so orderly.
Gloriously gallant guards
Protecting the central base
Of their livelihood.
Now,
They scramble
Writhing,
Self-penalizing,
Wriggling with utter chaos
As the lot of anxious,
Swinish abominations
That we now realize they are.
That we are.
Football
Football, football what are you in this world?
A piece of bull- hide inflated with hot air
Be not proud, you are inflated with hot lies
Tortured for the pleasure of the powerful
Temples are erected and named in your honor
Millions worship you without any holy book
Fanatics quarrel and break bones in your name
For amusement, humans die as they laugh at you
Football, football an idol of this modern age
Your worshipers wear cassocks and carry chalice
They take oath to almighty FIFA to kick you well
As millions are collected for your condolence fees
Football, football your bishop presides over your pain
Penalizing those who don’t kick you painfully enough
Your agonies are means of happiness for the world
A mere skin full of air, no judge can deliver you justice