Flat-Pack Furniture Fiasco

[Verse 1] Check the manual, check the blueprint, you’re missing every part, Forty-five minutes in and we already broke your heart. France unleashed twenty-five shots, twelve were testing the net, While you stood frozen like a bookshelf you haven't finished yet. Four-hundred-eighty-five passes, we kept the ball on a chain, Two-hundred-seventy-nine for you? Don't bother coming again. Sixty-one percent possession, we dictated the pace, While your backline stood in silence, an absolute disgrace. [Chorus] Flat-pack legends, you’re folded and you’re done, Watching our shadow while we’re having all the fun! Three-nil on the board, yeah, the gap is getting wide, Nowhere to run and there’s nowhere left to hide! Blue, white, and red, we’re the masters of the grass, You’re just the furniture, a total lack of class! [Verse 2] Kylian’s on the prowl, yeah, he’s sprinting for the prize, Forty-fifth and seventy-fourth, right before your eyes. That’s a clinical brace, six goals at the top of the pile, Level with Leo Messi, doing it with French style. Three shots on target for your whole ninety-minute show? You spent more time watching his highlights than stopping him, you know. You stood like instructions that nobody can read, While the Golden Boot leader found the clinical lead. [Bridge] No screws, no bolts, just a gap in the floor, Every time we moved, you were begging for more. Twelve shots on our target, we tested your frame, You’re a DIY disaster, a joke of a name. [Outro] Three-nil, look at the stats on the screen, Worst Swedish assembly that we’ve ever seen. Six goals for Mbappé, he’s taking the crown, While the Swedish furniture is tumbling down. Pack it up, lads. Send it back to the warehouse.