The clock's running down
The team's losing ground
To the opposing defense
The young quarterback
Waits for the snap
When suddenly it all starts to make sense
He's got all kinds of time
He's got all kinds of time
All kinds of time
He's got all kinds of time
All kinds of time
He takes a step back
He's under attack
But he knows that no one can touch him now
He seems so at ease
A strange inner peace
Is all that he's feeling somehow
He thinks of his mother
He thinks of his bride-to-be
He thinks of his father
His two younger brothers
Gathered around the widescreen TV
He looks to the left
He looks to the right
And there in a golden ray of light
Is his open man
Just like he planned
The whole world is his tonight