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Sad little boy of the street |
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Hands of a thief |
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With the mind of a dreamer |
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Dodging the puddles with feet |
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Of a torero in an Arena |
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Sings an old Andalucian song |
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Dancing along |
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Using his dirty red coat as a cape |
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Rain thundering down |
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Sounds like the applause from |
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Hundreds of people |
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He feels free as the wind |
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Free as the swifts |
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Around the cathedral |
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Kneels to acknowledge his fame |
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Forgets all his pain |
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Little Toreador in the Rain |
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Bathed in a Rainbow of Pink |
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Purple and Blue outside La Molina |
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The pavement reflecting the neon |
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Lights this Torero in his arena |
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He looks down at his clothes |
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Imagining those |
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Worn of sequin, Gold and Brocade |
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He kneels and kisses the beast |
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Fearing the least |
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Knowing death will not find him |
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But maybe one day he will face |
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The Horns of the Devil |
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His childhood behind him |
|
Brave young man from the streets |
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No more a thief |
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No longer a dreamer |
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Stands in front of the Beast |
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A golden Torero in an Arena |
|
It starts to thunder and rain |
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Remembering that day |
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He danced like a fool on the wing of a dream |
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Sand turning to mud |
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Soon where his blood will splatter and mingle |
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Free, Free as an Angel |
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Up with the swifts |
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Around the cathedral |
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Never to be seen again |
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Dreams all in vain |
|
There lies the Toreador in the rain |
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Little Toreador in the rain (x 4) |
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Little Toreador in the rain |
|
(Repeat to fade) |