I learned the truth at thirty-three
My best football is behind me
I'll never trouble destiny
or make those teams of centuries
I used to be a midfield gun
but now I hardly get a run
I'm lucky to get on before
one team's kicked a mammoth score

and though I train in pouring rain
and suffer pain and don't complain
selection nights they overlook
me, for a snotty-nosed young rookie
I've been there for thirteen years
and I'm not wet behind the ears
yet though I jump through all the hoops
I'm still not in the "leadership group"
I thought I'd be.....
at thirty three

It was long ago and far away
when I was younger than today
fans of mine would cheer and clap
and wear my number on their backs
It's different now at thirty-three
Those very fans run straight past me
to those whose names are never called, when
choosing names of good bench warmers

Still, on my own I sometimes dare
To cheat the truth and say a prayer
inventing club scouts on the phone
who call and ask if I'm alone.
I dream they'll say "come play with us"
and offer half a million bucks
to a washed-up guy like me
At thirty three

la la la la la la la.......