|
See the brave toreador just look at him thrive |
|
Off the crowd as they roar. |
|
For death brings a thrill |
|
To the everyday lives of the "non-com" observers |
|
Who gloat and chastise |
|
My mind can't believe we maintain |
|
This barbarous blood thirsty game. |
|
In their picturesque dwellings the aristo-classes |
|
Spill blood that's not claret from cut-crystal glasses. |
|
Never once pausing to contemplate why |
|
For vanity's victories innocents die. |
|
No better than bloodhounds |
|
Hot on the scent |
|
They butcher their prey |
|
When its' energy's spent |
|
My mind can't believe we maintain |
|
This barbarous blood thirsty game. |
|
Please show me this "sportsman" |
|
You mention with pride |
|
With his dog to defend him |
|
And his gun at his side |
|
If courage is the one thing |
|
Your kind do not lack |
|
Then why don't you hunt something |
|
That can fight you back? |
|
I see only cowardice ridden by guilt |
|
And your hands won't wash clean of the blood they have spilt. |
|
What measure of madness makes you all so ill |
|
That your passport to pleaseure's a licence to kill? |
|
So I won't waste my time trying to understand why |
|
For vanity's victories innocents die ' |
|
Cus you're all vicious bastards |
|
I'm sick of your crap |
|
So I won't bat an eyelid when it's you in the trap. |
|
I still can't believe we maintain |
|
This barbarous blood thirsty game. |
