Now he's going for the grey ball. Into the top left pocket. A touch off the slightly darker grey ball. And he's snookered behind the grey ball. Oh, he's going for the grey ball.
Where did the chinaman go?. Where did the chinaman go?. Bowled out of favor when the paceman move in. As pitches got faster with no turn or spin. "Bowl faster, bowl at him, bowl bodyline.
That Thompson and Cram both lost in Rome. Was no surprise, when one thinks. Of all the rubbish they consumed. Those cereals and drinks. Lured by big advertising deals.
Old, old limbs move slowly now. Up and down stairs from bed to chair. A balsa puppet struggles to remember. Cheering crowds and famous victories. That was a full life.
Whilst Robson plays his Sharp CD. And Beardsley paints his lounge "hint of green". And the big clubs dream of a Superleague. Of Keegan's "reasonable" three thousand a week.
When Grandstand's finished, and Sport On Two. And there's nothing much left to do. Too lazy to leave the armchair. Can only manage to plug in the computer.
From Upton Park to the Baseball Ground. From Old Trafford to Anfield Road. It's the same old story if you're disabled. Just token gestures, no real facilities.
In the light of the ignorance and misplaced fear. Of the panicked bosses of the Football League. It isn't surprising that hugging and kissing. Are banned on account of the threat of AIDS.
When racing fast it's easy enough. To make a wrong decision. Just be sure that when you crash. You're on television. You're on television. You're on television.
[SONGS & LYRICS BY TATSU MIKAMI]. . ANGRY WHITE MALE'S REVEL. HUNGRY FOR YOUR PAIN. MAKE YOU BLEED IJUST WANT TO. AT MY FEET, YOU'LL DIE. . ANGRY WHITE MALE KILLER.
The wife she washes the football strip. The wife buys my sports socks and irons my kit. I lose a golf shoe, the wife looks for it. And that's what I call teamwork.
[SONGS BY TOMOHIRO NISHIMURA, LYRICS BY TATSU MIKAMI]. . DECAY IMMENSELY. DEEP INSIDE OF YOU. I PROVED MY THEORY BY MY HUMAN TEST. . I PRAY FOR THE END OF YOUR NIGHTMARE.
A quiet Sunday afternoon, away from town and work. Scatter all the groundbait down, relax with rod and hook. But as the worm he wriggles round he dreams of just one wish.
[SONGS & LYRICS BY TATSU MIKAMI]. . REVOLUTION FOR NEW GENERATION. SEX, DRUG & MURDER. I'LL SHOW YOU THE WAY TO KILL, MY CHILDREN. . DEMOLITION FOR NEW CREATION.
Sat with strawberries and cream. Listening to all the players scream. From right to left and left to right. "The ball was in!". "No, it was out!". The money goes up the fun has gone.
[SONGS & LYRICS BY TATSU MIKAMI]. . HELLO FROM THE GUTTER OF " NEW YORK CITY " - A SON OF SAM. " SAM " ,MY FARTHER NEEDS SOME BLOOD. TO PRESERVE HIS YOUTH.
Away from work finding peace. With a swing on the seventeenth lined with trees. You're out playing golf for the day. Hoping that with a bit of luck. Someone will study a chemistry book.
[SONGS & LYRICS BY TATSU MIKAMI]. . YOU CAN SMELL SOMEONE'S ROTTING. DEATH COMES BEHIND YOU. THERE'S NOWHERE TO RUN. DISMEMBERED YOUR REMAINS AND NOBODY CARES.
In '36 the world's teams. Played up, played up, and played the game. Runners, jumpers, footballers. All sieg-heilling the Fuhrer. Not so the black Americans.