You're a matador but I don't speak of bravery
Through the laughs and roars I can see your baby teeth
What do you have a passion for?
It's a shame to see
You can't be passive unless the past is what you aim to see
Full of excuses and regret
A recluse is what you get
With not a clue as to who is left
In a flood I'm wet, and it's blood I've bled
But my tongue is a ton of lead
Who puts the gun to head?
You are filled with thoughts that are not your own
You never got what you thought you were owed
You filled a pot with rocks and stones
You're still in shock it's not overgrown
Who am I if there's no current crisis?
Who am I? As my current vices
I can't be left to my own devices
I'm only decisive when I'm being divisive
Now tell me who likes this?
Hand to my chest
Had to confess
I ran and the lamb isn't one to impress
Hand to my chest
Can't catch a breath
I ran and I ran and I ran
And I