[Chorus] Oh, Mr. Skiffington, the athlete through and through Every single morning, he knows just what to do He doesn't need a trophy, no, he doesn't need a crowd Mr. Skiffington keeps moving, making his own self proud [Verse] Mr Skiffington The Athlete Rolls into the rec center at 6 One wrist taped up, the other one holding A lukewarm coffee he calls his fix He does a hamstring stretch by the busted bleachers Like he’s training for a trip to the moon Scrolls past the group chat, mutters, “Not today” Then clips a medal to his hat and heads out by noon [Chorus] Oh, Mr. Skiffington, the athlete through and through Every single morning, he knows just what to do He doesn't need a trophy, no, he doesn't need a crowd Mr. Skiffington keeps moving, making his own self proud [Verse] He signs in with a pen on a lanyard chain Then ties his shoes on a bench with a squeak The youth league kids keep asking for pointers He says, “Keep your elbows in and your excuses weak” He jogs two laps with a crooked cadence Checks his watch like it’s got bad news Then buys one orange from the vending machine Peels it slow in the standing-room queue [Chorus] Oh, Mr. Skiffington, the athlete through and through Every single morning, he knows just what to do He doesn't need a trophy, no, he doesn't need a crowd Mr. Skiffington keeps moving, making his own self proud [Verse] At the free-throw line he never looks hurried Just wipes the dust off the ball with his sleeve Takes one shot, hears it rattle the rim Shrugs like that’s all anyone came to see By 6:42 he’s already cooling down Tossing his towel in a locker marked 14 He leaves with a grin and a paper wristband Like he won some race nobody else could even see [Chorus] Oh, Mr. Skiffington, the athlete through and through Every single morning, he knows just what to do He doesn't need a trophy, no, he doesn't need a crowd Mr. Skiffington keeps moving, making his own self proud [Verse] Back in the lot, he loads up his duffel With a jump rope, a binder, and one spare sock Taps the roof of the car like it’s game day Then drives off careful through the school-zone block Tomorrow he’ll show up with the same old timing Same taped wrist, same coffee, same hat Mr Skiffington The Athlete, still in motion Even when the scoreboard says nothing like that
