Villa vs United

Look, David, if you had one shot, or one opportunity to seize everything you ever wanted, in one moment, would you capture it? Or just let it slip, yo…

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His palms are sweaty, “Rio’s weak”, “Ando’s heavy”, there’s DM on his sweater already – Morgan sewed it. He’s nervous, and on the surface he looks calm and ready to drop Rooney, but he keeps on forgetting what someone told him. The whole crowd goes so loud. He opens his mouth, but the wrong words come out. He’s choking, how? Everybody’s joking now. Fergie’s clock’s run out. Times up … over … blaoh!

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Snap back to reality, oh, there goes Kagawa. Oh, there goes Robin. He choked. He’s so mild, but he won’t give up that easy, no, he won’t have it. He knows his whole back’s to these ropes, it don’t matter he’s pragmatic … he knows that but the club’s broke, so stagnant, he knows when he goes back to the transfer window, that’s when it’s back to the fibs again, yo … This whole rhapsody better go capture this moment and hope no-one passes to Fellaini.

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You better lose yourself in the football. The moment, you own it, you better never let it go
You only get one season, do not miss your chance to blow. This opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo…

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Their soul’s escaping, through this midfield hole that’s gaping. This world is Moyes for the taking, make’s me cringe. As we’ve moved toward a new world order, a normal life is actually quite tempting. ‘Cus his career’s close to post-mortem, it only grows harder, home games grows hotter … he blows, it’s all over! The press is all on him, coast to coast shows, he’s known as ‘the chosen one’. Lonely roads, God only knows he’s grown faulty at home, he’s no Fergie. He goes home and barely knows how to draw there. But hold your noise, ‘cus here comes the cold winter. These fans don’t want him no more, he’s cold product. They’ll move on to the next schmoe who flows. He nose dove and bought nada. So, the soap opera is told, it unfolds I suppose it’s old partner, but the beat goes on: Da da dumn, da dumn David….

You better lose yourself in the football. The moment, you own it, you better never let it go
You only get one season, do not miss your chance to blow. This opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo…

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No more lost games. He’s a change what you call rage. Tear this motherflippin’ roof off like two Roys caged. He was playing in the beginning, the mood will change. He’s been tested and found out and booed off pitch. But he kept rotating and stupidly writing the next side for … best believe somebody’s paying Phil Neville. All the pain in this side, amplified by the fact that he can’t get by with this 25 or so. And he can’t provide the right type of eleven for a top four place, ‘cus man, these goddamn foolish yanks don’t buy players. And there’s no movement, there’s no Mike Phelan. This is his life and these times are so hard, and it’s getting even harder. Transfer fees are what he need, plus tougher-talking. Caught up between being Rooney’s father and a Premier League manager. Drama’s screaming on and too much for him to wanna stay in one spot, another day of monotony’s gotten him to the point he’s like a snail. He’s got to formulate a plot, or end up mid-table or worse. Success is his only motherflippin’ option – failure’s not. SAF, he loves you, but this team has got to go, he cannot go on with some of this lot. So, here he goes, it’s his shot, funds fail him not, this may be the only opportunity that he’s got!

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You can do anything you set your mind to, man.

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