I’m just standing there, I can’t say a word   Cos everythings just gone, I’ve got nothing – absolutely nothing      In one single moment your life can turn around    In the distance I see Wayne Rooney falling to the ground    Looks like he’s gonna give it, then looks like he’s not   Then finally the referee is pointing to the spot   It all comes down to this then its like everybody says   As I stare into the eyes of Fabien Barthez   Will I go left? – will I go right? – haven’t decided yet   Sod it - I’ll just stick the thing in the back of the bloody net   I let fly with my right boot, my whole world begins to freeze   I’m begging the silver ball “please go in, please”   I see a Union Jack in the air as someone waves it   But my whole world’s in despair cos Barthez saves it      Chorus (Sung By Roy Keane):   Dry your eyes mate,    I know its hard to take but obviously as I said before like,   There’s plenty more games in Group B   Dry your eyes mate,    You’ll have a chance to polish up against the Swiss on Thursday   Or at the end of the day like, it’s over…      Then the lads start looking at me as if I’ve committed a crime   But we’re still one-nil up going into injury time   The ref checks his watch and we all look at the clocks   Then Heskey commits a foul on the edge of our box   We all regroup and make a wall, stand there hand in hand   There’s no sign of posh at all anywhere in the stand   We all know what they’re gonna do – it can only be one man   They all call him Zizu – his name is Zinedine Zidane   I wonder if he remembers how in the tunnel I gave him a kiss   I wonder if it’ll please, please, please make him miss   But he sticks it in the net - which means now we’re all level   Now all I’ve got left are the tears of Gary Neville      Chorus:   Dry your eyes mate,    I know its hard to take but obviously as I said before like,   There’s plenty more games in Group B   Dry your eyes mate,    You’ll have a chance to prove yourself against the Swiss on Thursday   Or at the end of the day like, it’s over…      We’re all over the shop, when will the ref blow the whistle?   We’re not playing like England no more – more like Patrick Thistle   We need a pep talk, a speech, a helping hand, a sermon   Cos we’re not getting nothing from this ref who just happens to be German   There he goes again giving out the yellow card   When suddenly the ball breaks to Steven Gerrard   I see the hopes of a nation all going up in flames   With a lunge of desperation from our ‘keeper David James   The ref points to the spot – God I’ll give you a million quid    If you please, please, please make Zidane do what I did   But he sticks it in the net- how could I think he would miss?   Cos I’m starting to regret giving Zidane that kiss      Chorus:   Dry your eyes mate,    I know its hard to take but obviously as I said before like,   There’s plenty more games in Group B   Dry your eyes mate,    You’ll have a chance to prove yourself against the Swiss on Thursday   Or at the end of the day like, it’s over…