Written the day England lost against the nasty Germans.
It's called Washing off the face paint. (title suggested by Dr Joel Stickley).
Me and my friends were so optimistic
a few beers, then paint each others faces
but it's not turned out as we'd predicted
so we trundle back from the terraces
and now we're all scraping off the make up
it wasn't supposed to turn out like this
things will seem much better when we wake up
but right now we're dwelling on near misses.
A clown driving back late to his bedsit
an argument on an anniversary
a honeymoon suite that smells of Lemsip
no one turns up at your surprise birthday
we're all scrubbing off our St George's flags
and go to bed early, remorse and sad.
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