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Plan A Lyrics
Just like when we were seventeen
We said we'd move to Malta, claim Nationality,
And now that we are twenty-three
Days tethered to the running track,
Evenings chained to the dishrack
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
Was it wind? Did it take a bad deflection?
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.
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:
Pound every coin deep into the ground
Burn every note in circulation
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.
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
We said we'd move to Malta, claim Nationality,
And now that we are twenty-three
Days tethered to the running track,
Evenings chained to the dishrack
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
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.
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
Pound every coin deep into the ground
Burn every note in circulation
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.
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
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according to an interview with Gareth up on Pitchfork Media: "It stems from how me and my pals from school always used to say that if everything went wrong when we finished university, we'd all move to Malta, which is a very poor footballing nation. We'd live there for five years to claim Maltese citizenship and then we would play for the Maltese international football team. So that song is about how myself and a girlfriend move to Malta and I become a Maltese soccer hero, the King of Malta, and my dearest wife has her face being printed on all the Maltese currency and becomes queen. This song isn't quite as autobiographical as some of the others because, sadly, this is something that's never occurred. Perhaps it's because I've set myself up for that scenario that I constantly seem so skeptical about relationships-- because I don't think anything could live up to that. But if it wasn't for my Plan A, then I wouldn't be doing Plan B right now, and Plan B's all right."
I think this is pure fantasy and given the context it might either be his irrational regret this never happened or about missed opportunities due to self doubt. Perhaps even something he blames his partner for standing in the way of.
The interview below said it already but anyhow:
"In which the author has moved to Malta to make good his childhood dream of playing international football. My success is such that I become King and my good lady, Queen. Obviously this whole touring the world, being in a band thing is Plan B. I'd give it all up to play for Malta just once though, I swear." - Heat Rash