Pride

The mood in the stadia

Was just like coronation
Coronating the blighted with the dimmed
Like projects with estates
Like jealousies with hates
It's the offer to the sick of withered hand

The crowd stood and gasped as penalty went high
And all they could ever think was his wage
Never mind the advertising crawling round the ground
Forget about the reason they'd actually paid

It's a boast, it's a brag
Upon the shoulders of your dad
It's a feeling gained when just too high to touch
It's an insult, it's a rant
Lt's an idiotic chant
That sings that 'we're so great' and 'you ain't so much'
'
Those bigheads and boasters
Confident coast to coasters
Riding into town like cock or hen
They worship joy, they worship fun
And if they don't yet worship sun
They're pretty sure soon that sun will worship them

Cash brought in, stadium oversold
Caught between the club shop and the gates
Buy a flag. wear a pin
Get that scarf around your chin
Watch as sweet superbia screws your face

Pride it just grows
Like a wart upon your nose
Like a story told in bar that's never dull
Like a poem, like a tale
QE2 about to sail
Like that champagne bottle smashed against your skull

Buy a flag, wear a pin
Get that scarf around your chin
Watch as sweet superbia screws your face