Bring us the head of your favourite star
We’re gonna play football
A game of two halves with the severed head
Association football
Dylan, Beckham, Lennon, Best
You know the rest make up your own list
Fetch up the head of your favourite star
We’re gonna play football
Watch it on television
On a fuck off big screen
Sit in the stands if you can command an income
And leisure time to boot the head of Orpheus
What does he think then as he hears them singing at the Priestfield Road end
What does he think then
All those men behind the touchline singing
Drowning out the head of Orpheus football
Bring us the head of your favourite star
We’re going to play football
What is it with this severed head
Singing something that couldn’t be said
As it floats across the goal as he skims the grass or mud
The tree is listening, a leaf will understand
The air vibrates and the sea knows what’s beneath the sand
It’s the head of Orpheus
Dig it up then or better still bring us the head of your favourite star
We’re going to play fucking football
Oh the perfume of the match on the last train home, it’s got me gagging
But the pundits gravit-as is always the real clue to why
The long legged damsel has been tied to the stake and screams
And screams
And screams
For the head of Orpheus football
Credit: Transcribed by zttaat.com.