El Gladiador

In a cramped little room
In a neighborhood house
There's a kid who
Wraps up a ritual

His moves are precise
Honoring the occasion
Because it's three on a Sunday and he
Heads to a mystical gathering

When he steps out the door
He walks with confidence
To meet his accomplice friends

Grouped in formation
With a new identity
He takes over the magic stadium

Now he feels good
Now he can shout
Oh king soccer, my lord
Let your will be done

Drunk on the power
That the crowd has given him
His aggression overflows without a care

He doesn't stop to think
That he could provoke
An avalanche that would be tragic today

The level of his passion
Depends on the score
Oh king soccer, my lord
Grant the longed-for goal

He's so happy to share that moment

Finally, the offering is fulfilled
The world is a big ball, going into the net
Finally, peace has arrived
The heroes salute a field standing tall

He thinks he's a gladiator in timeless combat
Capable of dying or killing
His mission doesn't end when the whistle blows
Because there will always be another tournament

The gladiator returns home and goes to bed without dinner
On Sunday, he'll face a new battle

Score, conquer, win