[Verse 1: Gareth & Aleks
Just like when we were seventeen
We said we'd move to Malta, claim nationality
And now that we are twenty-three
Days tethered to the running track
Evenings chained to the dish rack
I'm called up to the Maltese national team
My vision is impeccable, my first touch is obscene
A World Cup qualifier finds me fifty, forty, thirty yards
From goal, a late sub on in an off-the-striker role
[Verse 2: Gareth & Aleks]
Was it wind? Did it take a bad deflection?
A decade spent nursing a fear that you might never make it?
The crowd draws breath at once, it swerves to the top corner
The Sunday tabloid press declares me the new king of Malta
[Chorus]
With my name on shirts, your face on the cash
That every week just piles inside our bank account
We'd rule the roost and we could start a family
I think we'd make about a hundred million bucks
[Verse 3: Gareth & Aleks]
I head down to the mint and tell them
"Pound every coin deep into the ground
Burn every note in circulation
There's a new face on the currency of our nation"
I hand them a photograph of you
The most beautiful thing they'd ever seen
The press starts a rolling, your image on Euros
The workforce retires to the bathroom
[Chorus]