Los Campesinos! - Plan A [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Aleks:] Just like when we were seventeen
We said we'd move to Malta, claim nationality
[Aleks:] And now that we are twenty-three
Days tethered to the running track
Evenings chained to the dish rack

I'm called up to the Maltese national team
My vision is impeccable, my first touch is obscene
A World Cup qualifier finds me fifty, forty, thirty yards
From goal, a late sub on in an off the striker role

[Aleks:] Was it wind? Did it take a bad deflection?
[Aleks:] A decade spent nursing a fear that you might never make it?
The crowd draws breathe at once it swerves to the top corner
The Sunday tabloid press declares me the new king of Malta

[Chorus]
With my name on shirts, your face on the cash
That every week just piles inside our bank account
We'd rule the roost and we could start a family
I think we'd make about a hundred million bucks

I head down to the mint and tell them:
[Aleks:] "Pound every coin deep into the ground
[Aleks:] Burn every note in circulation
[Aleks:] There's a new face on the currency of our nation"
I hand them a photograph of you
The most beautiful thing they'd ever seen
The press starts a rolling, your image on Euros
The workforce retires to the bathroom

[Chorus]