|
Disappears through a window. |
|
Out of my mind |
|
Trying to keep him at home. |
|
Out into Rome |
|
In the early hours, |
|
Leaving me here |
|
Like Tamlaine in her Tower. |
|
You are going |
|
To the empty bullring, |
|
Taking your red cloak |
|
To regain something. |
|
Oh, you rolling matador, |
|
Kill in your eyes |
|
For the toro |
|
That shut the door |
|
To glory and gore. |
|
The throw of the rose-- |
|
It's all you lived for, |
|
But you've lost it all. |
|
Your red streak |
|
On the plot where many feet |
|
Left it incomplete. |
|
But you kept the meaning. |
|
You feel him charge again, |
|
And you feel him cut you down |
|
Right on the spot |
|
Where you thought |
|
You were ground for good. |
|
These flights of fantasy |
|
Make your wounds more sore, |
|
But you've every right |
|
To even grab at the last straw. |
|
Oh, Lord... |
|
Oh, you rolling matador, |
|
Kill in your eyes |
|
For the toro |
|
That shut the door |
|
To glory and gore. |
|
The throw of the rose-- |
|
It's all you lived for, |
|
But you've lost it all. |
