| Lyrics: | Transcribed By: Michael T. Balonek
My helmet is equipped with a tiny face mask.
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What it possibly could protect, I do not know.
The other guys on the team
like to make fun of my little shoulder pads,
And also like to hide my special shoe
that I made to kick in the snow.
People think it's so easy to kick a field goal from
the 30 yard line,
But they forget to add 7 yards for the snap and ten more 'cause the
goal
posts are pushed way back.
In 1974, the uprights were right on the goal
lines, but some of the
players were running into them and getting hurt.
So
screw the kicker.
Who cares about the kicker?
But I
kick that ball,
And I pray it goes straight,
If it does, the coach
says, "Good Job, Number 8."
He doesn't even know my name,
It's Andre
Christochovitchlalinsky, Jr.
But that's the life I live,
The lonesome
kicker.
Kick-offs can be so very scary,
Especially if
the returner breaks right through,
And I'm the only guy on the playing field left to
tackle him.
I don't want to get hurt,
So I pretend to tie my shoe.
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Once again, I'm ignored by my teammates and all my coaches.
"Go back
where you came from!" screamed 70 million fans.
Well I know I could win their love
back by catching a winning touchdown,
But unfortunately, I was born with these very
small hands.
Well, I hope the camera's don't come in too close,
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'Cause they might see the tears in my eyes,
As I sit on this bench made
of cold, hard wood,
And the splinters go deep in my thighs.
Oh, the
towel-boy snickers when he walks by,
The lonesome kicker.
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Another blocked kick
And everybody blames me
But it was the left
guard
Who didn't pick-off his
man!
Oh, why can't they see?
In my home
country, I could've been a minor-league soccer player,
But I came to America seeking
fortune, and seeking fame.
I didn't realize that if I shanked one and blew the point
spread,
Some drunk guys would push me into their Hibachi after the game.
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So I go home at night, 'cause I never get invited to go drinking with
the
other guys,
And I sit on a chair and soak my feet,
As I eat a plate of
cold french-fries,
And my wife's out with a quote-unquote "friend",
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And my son can't look me in the eye.
Well that's the life I live,
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The lonesome kicker.
Kickin' for you...
They took my snow
shoe...
They're going for....two.......
Ooh, ooh |
