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.
|
|
-----------------
|
The Empty Bullring
|
| Kate Bush |
