The amount of sweat I bled, the amount of anger I divulged.
Late nights and early mornings, working to improve my ingenuity.
It never seemed to come through to me that my love for the sport was already dead.
I had to get it out of my head, was it grief? Or was it Relief? I guess I’ll never know.

But the game will always be important to me, and the hours I exhausted,
Will never cede to be remembered, will never be forgotten.
I played it like the best, my competency unbeaten, strength like goliath,
It was hard to triumph, It was often needed.

I’ll let you know it’s not easy to score, without getting your energy depleted.
Soccer is a journey, you start from nothing with the hopes of something.
After all that wait, with my skills and cunning.
I ended up running; no team, no nothing.

Although the work was hard, it’s undoubtedly missed, as I built my empire up, brick by brick.
It teaches you about skill, it teaches you about tricks; such practices are scarred in my mind.
But all fell apart, its reign of interest crumbled under my anger, and was all left behind.