Me, I'm the Lonesome Kciker

Extra points, field goals at your service

One might think it comes with glory

You might think different after you listen to my story

My helmet is equipped with a tiny face mask

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 the special shoe

I need to kick in the snow

People think it's so easy

To kick a field goal from the 30 yard line

They forget to add seven yards for the snap

And 10 more 'cause the goal posts are pushed way back

In 1974, the uprights were right on the goal line

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 is

Andrew Kristacovitchlalinski, Jr.

But that's the life I live

The Lonesome Kicker

Kickoffs can be so very scary

Expecially, if the returner breaks on 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

Once again, I'm ignored by my teammates and all my coaches

"Go back where you came from!"

Scream 70,000 fans

Well, I know I could win their love back

By catching a winning touch-down

But, unfortunately, I was born with these very small hands

And I hope that the cameras don't come in too close

'Cause they might see the tears in my eyes

As I sit on the bench made of cold-hearted wood

And the splinters go deep in my thighs

And the towel boy snickers as he walks by

The Lonesome Kicker

Another blocked kick

And everybody blames me

But it was the Left Guard

Who didn't pick up his man

Oh, why can't they see...

In my home country

I could have 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

So I go home at night

'Cause I never get invited

To go drinking with the other guys

And I sit in my chair, and I soak my feet

As I eat a plate of cold french fries

And my wife's out with her quote-unquote friend

And my son can't look me in the eyes

But that's the life I live

The Lonesome Kicker

Kicking for you

They took my snow shoe

They're going for two