An anxious audience waiting for a thrill
morbid and sadistic they yearn for a kill
A terrorized bull in sent in the ring
unaware of what the matador will bring

The matador let's the "battle" begin
this ruthless battle the bull can't win
He waves the cape to torment and confuse
aggravated and frightened, his horns he'll use

So swift a man to step aside
and to stab this bull upon his side
Trails of blood splatter the ground
unnoticed cries of pain his only sound

On his weakening legs he stayed
but he's no match for the brutal blade
Again and again with the bloody sword
for the matador mustn't make the crowd bored

Unfair and savage this makes no sense
for this bull's horns offer no defense
From blood loss, his legs give out
the frenzied audience gives a shout

He looks up at his slayer for mercy
but gets the final blow callously
His head sinks down as his life's blood flows
clapping, the audience stands up in rows

Janet Riddle 1999

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