Champions League

I sit down to watch the final with you. Being interested in soccer made me intriguing at thirteen. Not that I\'m going for that. Not that you\'re thirteen. Nothing goes on except the mechanism of the chronometer. Having used up my allowance for indecision and clumsiness, I\'m stranded on the right flank of the couch. Cheering and jitters are for the hopeful and Luzhniki is the only arena for anxiety Exhaustion ensures that there\'ll be no surprises, and death will not be sudden. I suppress the urge to hold you back by the t-shirt and other card-worthy fits. If I collapse in painful cramps I\'ll be penalized for loitering Not being banned is the most I can struggle for in the Champions League.