| I threw a rose to the matador
|
| Not sure who I was cheering for
|
| My aim was true, my heart was full
|
| I loved the fighter and the bull
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| I loved like only a woman can
|
| A very complicated man
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| I bound his wounds, I heard his cries
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| I gave him truth, I told him lies
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| His rage is made of many things
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| Faithless women, wedding rings
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| Snakes and snails and alcohol
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| His daddy’s fist thrown through the wall
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| Ah, but he’s beautiful when he’s in the ring
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| The devil howls, the angels sing
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| Sparks fly from his fingertips
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| And words like birds fly from his lips
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| Some man is lying in the dirt
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| Some woman’s crying that he’s hurt
|
| But he’s not alive without the thrill
|
| Without the dance, without the kill
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| The lights go down, the people roar
|
| They’re cheering on the matador
|
| And this is how the story goes
|
| I knew it when I threw the rose
|
| I come to each and every show
|
| The woman in the second row
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| I watch them in their ancient dance
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| And I know I never stood a chance
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| 'Cause while other demons prance and clown
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| It’s vanity that takes you down
|
| I thought that I could be the one
|
| But I’m just another hanger-on
|
| Some man is bleeding in the dirt
|
| Some woman’s crying that she’s hurt
|
| But who are we without the thrill
|
| Without the dance, without the kill?
|
| And he is bull and matador
|
| And I’m the mother and the whore
|
| And this is how the story goes
|
| I knew it when I threw the rose
|
| I threw a rose to the matador
|
| Not sure who I was cheering for
|
| My aim was true, my heart was full
|
| I loved the fighter and the bull |