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The Bulls
Marc Almond
The Bulls
On Sundays the bulls get so bored
When they're asked to show off for us
There is the sun, the sand, and the arena
There are the bulls ready to bleed for us
It's time when grocery clerks
Become Don Juan
And all the ugly girls
Turn into swans
Who can say what he's found
That bull who turns and paws the ground
And suddenly he sees himself all nude
Who can say what he dreams
That bull who hears the silent screams
From the open mouths of multitudes
On Sundays the bulls get so bored
When they're asked to suffer for us
There are the picadors and the mobs revenge
There are the toreros and the mob's revenge,
there are the toreros - and the mob kneels for us
It's time when grocery clerks
become Garcia-Lorca
And the girls put the roses in their teeth
Like Carmen
On Sundays the bulls get so bored
When they're asked to drop dead for us
The sword will plunge down
And the mob will drool
The blood will poor down
And turn the sand to mud
It's time when grocery clerks
Become Nero
And the girls scream
And shout the name of their hero
And when finally they fell
Did the bulls dream of a hell
Where men and worn out matadors
Still burn
And perhaps with their last breath
Would they pardon us their death
Knowing what we did at
Carthage, Waterloo, Verdon, Stalingrad, Iwoa Jima , Hiroshima, SaigonOn Sundays the bulls get so bored
When they're asked to show off for us
There is the sun, the sand, and the arena
There are the bulls ready to bleed for us
It's time when grocery clerks
Become Don Juan
And all the ugly girls
Turn into swans
Who can say what he's found
That bull who turns and paws the ground
And suddenly he sees himself all nude
Who can say what he dreams
That bull who hears the silent screams
From the open mouths of multitudes
On Sundays the bulls get so bored
When they're asked to suffer for us
There are the picadors and the mobs revenge
There are the toreros and the mob's revenge,
there are the toreros - and the mob kneels for us
It's time when grocery clerks
become Garcia-Lorca
And the girls put the roses in their teeth
Like Carmen
On Sundays the bulls get so bored
When they're asked to drop dead for us
The sword will plunge down
And the mob will drool
The blood will poor down
And turn the sand to mud
It's time when grocery clerks
Become Nero
And the girls scream
And shout the name of their hero
And when finally they fell
Did the bulls dream of a hell
Where men and worn out matadors
Still burn
And perhaps with their last breath
Would they pardon us their death
Knowing what we did at
Carthage, Waterloo, Verdon, Stalingrad, Iwoa Jima , Hiroshima, Saigon
Os Touros
Nos domingos os touros ficam tão entediados
Quando são chamados pra se exibir pra gente
Tem o sol, a areia e a arena
Tem os touros prontos pra sangrar por nós
É a hora em que os atendentes do mercado
Viraram Don Juan
E todas as garotas feias
Se transformam em cisnes
Quem pode dizer o que ele encontrou
Aquele touro que vira e arranha o chão
E de repente se vê todo nu
Quem pode dizer o que ele sonha
Aquele touro que ouve os gritos silenciosos
Das bocas abertas das multidões
Nos domingos os touros ficam tão entediados
Quando são chamados a sofrer por nós
Tem os picadores e a vingança da multidão
Tem os toureiros e a vingança da multidão,
Tem os toureiros - e a multidão se ajoelha por nós
É a hora em que os atendentes do mercado
Viraram Garcia-Lorca
E as garotas colocam rosas nos dentes
Como Carmen
Nos domingos os touros ficam tão entediados
Quando são chamados a cair mortos por nós
A espada vai cravar
E a multidão vai babar
O sangue vai escorrer
E transformar a areia em lama
É a hora em que os atendentes do mercado
Viraram Nero
E as garotas gritam
E berram o nome do seu herói
E quando finalmente caíram
Os touros sonharam com um inferno
Onde homens e matadores desgastados
Ainda queimam
E talvez com seu último suspiro
Eles nos perdoariam a morte
Sabendo o que fizemos em
Cartago, Waterloo, Verdun, Stalingrado, Iwo Jima, Hiroshima, Saigon
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