
The crimson tide, a whispered prayer,
From sun-drenched shores, a hopeful air.
Matheus comes, a vibrant soul,
To Manchester, where legends roll.
Not just a player, but a dream,
A whispered wish, a fervent gleam.
From childhood hours, a painted scene,
Premier League magic, a vibrant sheen.
At Grandma’s house, the telly glowed,
United’s glory, stories flowed.
The red jersey, a burning fire,
A childhood yearning, set afire.
Now, the moment, a heart’s embrace,
The red shirt’s warmth, a sacred space.
The roar of the crowd, a symphony’s sound,
Matheus Cunha, on hallowed ground.
The pitch unfolds, a canvas bright,
With skill and heart, bathed in the light.
A symphony of movement, a dance of grace,
A new chapter, a new embrace.
The weight of history, a gentle hand,
Guides his steps across the land.
A legacy of champions, a glorious past,
Matheus Cunha, a future cast.
From Brazil’s heart, a warrior bold,
To Manchester’s story, a tale unfolds.
The red shirt’s embrace, a loving tie,
Matheus Cunha, beneath the sky.
(Shorter verses, for a more immediate impact)
Red. A colour of dreams.
A promise whispered, a burning gleam.
Matheus comes. A new dawn breaks.
Manchester’s heart, it wakes.
The roar of the crowd, a symphony’s grace.
Welcome, Matheus. Find your place.
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