Bull is lying on the ground
His fur is grey his eyes are brown
The matador he wipes his hands
And blows a kiss to all his fans
A trail of smoke tailing me
I hear your voice humming endlessly
A charging bull doesn't think twice
He doesn't pause or blink his eyes
The present is a gift to him
Tomorrow is a distant thing
A trail of smoke tailing me
I hear your voice humming endlessly