Uruguayan Rhapsody

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Luis Suarez as a young boy

Thanks to @vincentbrownlow for submitting the picture above, a young Luis Suarez with an incredible resemblance to the late Freddie Mercury.
I just couldn’t resist but to make a parody of the whole thing, so here goes.

Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Again in the headlines,
No escape from reality.

Open your eyes,
Look at the Daily Mail and see,
I’m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy,
Because I’m easy come, easy go,
Nutmeg high, nutmeg low,
Any way Ayre’s wind blows doesn’t really matter to me, to me.

Mama, I bit a man,
Put my mouth against his arm,
Squeezed my jaw and lost my charm.
Mama, almost won the golden boot,

But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away.

Mama, ooh,
To Melbourne I must fly,
If I don’t call again this time tomorrow,
Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters.

Too late, my time has come,
Sent shivers down my spine,
Body’s aching all the time.
Goodbye, everybody, I’ve got to go,
Gotta leave you all behind and face Brendan now.

Mama, ooh (any way Ayre’s wind blows),
My name is not in the envelope,
I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all.

I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Ian Ayre, Ian Ayre, I just want to be a Blanco.
Daily Mirror calling, I like biting,
Very, very frightening me.
(Arsene) Wenger.
(Arsene) Wenger,
Wants you now

I’m just a poor boy and nobody loves me.
He’s just a poor boy from a poor family,
Spare him his life from the media monstrosity.

Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?
Suarez! No, we will not let you go.
(Let him go!) Suarez! We will not let you go.
(Let him go!) Suarez! We will not let you go.
(Let me go) Will not let you go.
(Let me go) Will not let you go.
(Never, never, never let me go) Ah.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
(Oh, mama mia, mama mia) Mama mia, let me go.
Real Madrid has a shirt put aside for me, for me, for me.
So you think you can bite and have me defend your  dive?
So you think you can score goals and then just skive?
Oh, Luigi, can’t do this to me, Luigi,
You just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here.

(Oh, yeah, oh yeah)

Nothing really matters,
Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters,
Nothing really matters to me.

Any way Ayre’s wind blows.