Its a cultural thing murdering Bulls for pleasure

Its a pageant,
and its all about the culture
So those who do feel
animals have rights
Keep your eyes off what we do,
and what we’ve done for centuries
For our sights are set on great Bulls
and great fights
Born and raised in country camps,
fed and watered well
Allowed to run, to eat fresh grass
for at least 4 years,a spell
When their highly muscled body
becomes a rippling dream
Built and trained to fitness
great fighters it would seem

Brave and fierce and ready
to enter the ring of fear
To bravely fight which is their right
and perhaps to win the cheer
Of the wildly decked out Spaniards,
out to see it all
The struggle for survival
all the passion
and the gall

This creature held in high regard
a true fighting machine
Will take on various members
with their sword play and their skean
And so dispatch this wondrous brute
to Heaven in the sky
Born to fight all this was right
and respected now to die

Death comes pretty slowly
though torture and blood loss, we
weep as this bold creature c
cries out, yes inwardly
to show a hint of cowardice
in the face of
constant threat
as the weaponry is thrust
and its body clearly wet
With oozing blood,
its oxygenated fluids
to be seen
It sinks into the ground
and dies this esteemed machine.

El Matador faced injury
he skitted here and there,
he threw his crimson cloak around
his flashes he did share
The Bull by this time frantic
saw movement and he tried
To fight off his attacker
which the blood loss had denied
Through March until October
the rewards are blood and gore
Warriors and worriers
now come into the fore
The culture of the perpetrators,
the essential thing
And all of their creative drama
played out in the ring

Heart pumping, you can see
the Bull is angry,
to be taken from its
country pasture where
it ran about, there was no doubt
Heaven it had found
and now to be forced to leave
that place and in its own blood drowned
Of course the Bull is angry,
and frustrated as to why
a highly developed sensitive soul
had been chosen now to die
And In front of a baying multitude,
on a day out in the sun
Children, Parents boys and girls
what had that Bull done
to deserve an end so miserable, so savage
so forlorn
Killed by a prancing dandy
in his suit of lights
a horn
would cut that arse hole down to size
could be there was a chance
within the throes of death
both could enjoy the dance
and it does happen sometimes El Matador does find
His antics, perhaps an off day and the Bull
just gets to grind
His horns into his body
and toss him like some toy
and trample on his bloody pride and salvage a little joy

Though I have to say the earthling’s
not equipped with senses for
to feel the need of a joyous thought,
whilst approaching death’s dark door
That’s a human trait,for perhaps revenge
is a lowering of soul
For this brave Bull dies, and kicks where he lies,
and admits he’s lost control.
EL Matador has been in a war
he may also die that’s true
It happens that the Bull fights back,
its a risky business too

Its a pageant its a culture but I question could it be
a culture of the past and might it possibly
be over cooked and ready to advance into the now
For earthlings everywhere have rights
let me show you how
An animal has rights not to perish in this way
When it clearly had its faculties and
was bold and strong, to say
It had reached its end significantly
is an arrogance of man
For that Bull could have lived and
sired many more which was I think God’s plan.

The occasion, the trumpets sounded,
the adrenaline rush was there
The testosterone I heard the groan
Of euro’s everywhere
Its a pageant, its a wondrous time
in the calendar of SPAIN
as we see one s
away from what is clearly abject PAIN
a fitting name then possibly
For a country that believes
That an animals right is to come and fight
and somehow that achieves

a good result for all parties
possibly that’s true
But the Spanish might also turn around
and point towards some of you
Who are party to the slaughter of
billions yes you too
Pigs and piglets, sheep and lambs,
goats and kids all factory farmed
Cows and calves,deers and fawns,ducks and chickens
if it moves its harmed
Fish in the sea zillions are killed
and the planet is ravaged with the blood
that’s spilled
The water we drink is tainted by,
the run off of slurry that fills the sky
Forests are downed mangroves too
and the raging torrents just sail on through

Now I am,vegan of many years almost 4 decades,
my share of tears
Is thinking of the Bulls and all earthling souls,
of indigenous peoples and the poor whose roles
are to slave for the corporates day and night
they can hardly afford what is their right
like the animal earthlings are regarded as fair
game for the rich and there’s many out there
I saw this light aeons ago
I realised animals that I loved so
To see them die at the hands of fiends
Paid to lie to themselves, the scenes
from Hell in the abattoir each day
there are hardly words on earth to say
How sick, how savage, how senseless, we
Have drifted into the deadliest sea
Where life is rewarded with devilish zest
And recombitant versions we now do test
The executioner will some day
Be executed come what may

No animal is born to die to go into another’s pie
No creature big or small should
troop slowly into someone’s soup
No animal earthling anywhere
should suffer the terrible despair
of having its offspring stolen so
another species can build and grow
its inference from the milk it made
cow nutrition cannot be weighed
up for humans it should not be
created out of cows and we
Must see the Dairy Industry
as devils incarnate, my plea
Its all a pageant in the end
The trumpets sound as we transcend
Into the burning furnace
as we buckle and we bend
Turned into the ash of time
to blow across the earth and be
part of something new who knows
an island of iniquity.