It’s not just a random match at night,
It’s a feeling in the heart which ignites.
The match stands 90 minutes long,
The place where I exactly belong.

Late night matches, with tea in hand,
Shouting at the refs, you won’t understand.
Becoming a coach, yelling in front of the TV, 
Shouting and screaming like they can hear me.

Standing with the team, irrespective of the score,
It’s living their highs, standing strong in their lows.
They ask, “it’s just football, why care?“
Because it runs in my blood, it’s always been there.

It’s something not everyone can live or can feel,
To find yourself in a faraway place, which heals.
They might say, “Why watch? You’re not on the field”,
But they don’t understand the satisfaction it yields.

The moments before the final whistle,
And my messed up sleep schedule.
The matchday superstitions, my nervous phase,
It’s something I’ll always cherish, always embrace.

Football isn’t just a part of me, it’s all of me,
You can call it crazy, call it passion.
It’s never “just a game”,
Because for me, football isn’t watched, it’s lived through each frame.