The Empty Bullring

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.