Red Brick Terrace

[Verse 1]
Red brick terrace, house nineteen.
Watching the game on a cracked screen.
October drizzle on the glass, four minutes on the board.
He's in a home kit, two sizes too big, a tiny new lord.
The whole world is the hum from the telly, a hope he can't name.

[Chorus]
Then top bins rattles and the world goes grey.
And I wanna smash the glass, make the feeling go away.
He ain't ever known a hurt like this today.
That's the part they never show you on the replay.

[Verse 2]
His old man's hand on his shoulder, heavy and slow.
A language of loss only fathers and sons know.
Damp wool of his scarf smells of vinegar and cold.
Saw my own ghost in a boy who's nine years old.
Just learning the rules of a rigged cup tie.

[Bridge]
(Drums and vocals only)
Kick. Block. Tackle. Foul.
Crowd roar turns into a low growl.
"That's the game, son," is all he could say.
That's the game, son. Anyway.

[Outro]
Floodlights on the wet pavement, a holy kind of red.
Some hurt you inherit. Enough said.