Waving The White Flag to Another Season

Infighting
Backbiting
Sky telly versus the Madman
Whether it's Facebook or Twitter there's always one fan
Stirring the pot
This is a season that deserves to be forgot
We've had worse and it's not over yet
Squabbles about debt
Ownership woes
Crossing fingers and toes
That this dies down (ha!)
Had enough of the Italian clown
Jury's out on Evans for now
But this season take a bow
It's all about the boardroom blunders
Headline grabbing groans
Lots of misery and dull deadline loans
Look over at Leicester and feel depressed
Mind you could be a Villa fan that's stressed!
Chris Woods where art thou?
Bit of an injury jinx right now
The Beard seems shorn of positivity
Not hard to see
That it's not just fans struggling to focus
Anyone believe Massimo's muddled hocus pocus?
Its a free country
We can agree to disagree
But most of us surely know after Chelski Ken
We handed yet another chancer a poisoned pen
The kids are just there until someone else comes calling
The facade of selling Leeds on yesterday's glory is falling
We need to build a wall
Start a rallying call
Fortress Elland Road needs a refurb
Look beyond the HMRC blurb
The cracks go beyond the board
We're all falling on our own sword
It's a disease that's spreading
Uncomfortably numb
Many die hards no longer want to come
To see the Mighty Leeds this season
Which sounds like treason
But enough is enough
The going needs to get tough

Everything Is (Less Than) Average Nowadays

We gifted them a goal

Dug ourselves a massive hole

Feels like free fall

Soon be Egotistical Evan's curtain call

Mad Massimo continues to divide and rule 

Don't know who's the bigger fool

Those who part with their hard earned cash

To watch gutless trash 

Or the men in suits allowing this circus to continue

Oh the men in white yellow and blue

You try everyone's patience and pride

Which side?

Who to back?

Wooton on the rack 

Silvestri butter fingers 

The old bitter feeling lingers

We expected to lose today 

What can I say?

It's a culmination of messy mediocrities

As we drop to our knees 

Praying for better next time around

The sinking feeling brings us to the ground

Nothing changes nothing will

What a bitter pill

Until someone puts in a long term deal

And we're not just some mad millionaire's next meal

Not a fan of Cellino

But if he is to go

No certainties of a solvent saviour

Nor a manager with better behaviour

Oh well folks another cup run done

Let the nostalgic music run

Don't know what's ahead

But certainly that's the just about put to bed