[Verse 1: Dublin Irish-accented male MC, sharp brogue over the bodhran and pounding drums] Cup final Sunday and there's not a seat left in the ground Our tune comes on at half time and the whole place takes the sound Then the big screen flashes yellow and the music's cut in two There's a fella in a booth sayin' "Hold it, under review" Little headset, little monitor, a pencil and a flask "Is it real, was it made right?" that's the only thing he'll ask He's been sittin' up there since the first ball of the day Never kicked it, never sung it, never stood out in the spray But he's got a button and a screen and a rulebook on his knee And he thinks a frozen picture tells him more than you or me [Hook: Dublin MC, shouted over the full band, the tin whistle on top] Run it back, run it back, take it frame by frame Slow it to a crawl and the crowd still knows the name Zoom in on the terraces, there's no one sittin' down The call stands, and so does the whole of the ground [Verse 2: Dublin MC, faster, the guitar riff chugging under every bar] So he runs it at a quarter speed, he's huntin' for a seam Zooms in on the bassline like it's evidence, a crime scene Zooms in on the lads behind the goal, they're arm in arm Zooms in on a nun in row nine wavin' scarves like a charm Every face he circles in red pen is singin' every word Every frame he freezes is the loudest frame he's heard Quarter speed, eighth speed, he can slow it down to stone There's a kid up on his da's shoulders with the words all on his own You can watch it like a surgeon, pal, you'll never feel the swing 'Cause you only watch in slow motion, and you've never felt a thing [Hook: Dublin MC, shouted, the bodhran doubling the kick] Run it back, run it back, take it frame by frame Slow it to a crawl and the crowd still knows the name Zoom in on the terraces, there's no one sittin' down The call stands, and so does the whole of the ground [Verse 3: Dublin MC, every bar on the bodhran, then a run-on straight into the hook with no breath] Now they've put him on the big screen, every camera turned around Forty thousand watchin' one man watchin' forty thousand in the stands He checked it from the left side, he checked it from the right From the corner flag, the blimp, and the pylons of the light Every angle that he pulls just says it louder than before Every replay that he plays, there's another voice in the roar Twenty minutes in the booth and he can't find a flaw Only thing his tape can prove is that we saw what we saw So he leans into the mic, and before he says a word The whole ground sings the ruling back, the only thing he's heard [Hook: Dublin MC and the full band, no gap after the verse, everything in] Run it back, run it back, take it frame by frame Slow it to a crawl and the crowd still knows the name Zoom in on the terraces, there's no one sittin' down The call stands, and so does the whole of the ground [End]
