how not to love my concealing weapon,

if it saves me and calms the fright,

if every time it makes me feel in progression.

how to feel alive without my blinding light.

Without the colors that make me feel alright.

blue as an honest calm evening in Marseille,

gold is our guardian mystery,

red is the blood we shed at every play,

the color white evident in the innocent intimidating victory,

behind every match there’s a whole history.

every time I put my uniform on

my body flies completely free like the wind

is an oddly uncomfortable satisfaction.

is to hear the waves of the sea when you wake up.

Confidence, union, talent is what I feel

my team’s logo is the light in the dark

still, without my team, all this becomes irrelevant,

if we are not together,

we are not celebrant.