What’s a matador

Arrogance and guile
Are never positive
They are human traits
An evasion of what’s right
It’s a pathological step
From true reality
It’s trickery and hypocrisy
That fight

The matador the artiste
The perverted one
Trained in deceitfulness and pain
Creating a false picture
For the wounded Bull
Who sees the flashing cloak
And so in vain

Charges, please remember
He is tortured
his agony
Is something few there share
In this great arena
Where the audience of psychopaths
Pay their vile admission
To go there

A flashback to the centurions
Of Roman Times
The clash of personalities and skills
The total lack of fairness
In this present day
Despite the Matador and all his frills

Really it’s huge great hallucination
A mirage in the making we can say
The bull has been prepared
Before he, entered the ring
Tortured in a vile and awful way

He is angry, out of sorts
And bleeding internally
The screams of psycho audiences
Drive him spare
The picadors on horses
With their vile barbed lance
They will come and stab him anywhere

The crowd are often tanked up on
Sweet sangria
Under the hot sun bubbling in a way
The music and the trumpets and the
Blood lust in their souls
Cruelty is clearly there to stay

The matador is treated somewhat god like
Every thrust is met with massive cries
Applause rings through ones ears
No one sees the tears
The bull is suffering terribly
But nobody there hears

His agony they see his blood
Is glistening
Dripping off his back
Onto the sand
This priggish arse dressed in
His flashy satins
Does his dance of death
And holds his hand

His partner the sad Bull
Runs into trap him
Losing blood like crazy
In each flight
This is what Spain calls
It’s great tradition
It’s culture if all words
This proud Bull fight

That pickles all the bones
Of so called spaniards
The fraudulence exposed here
We can see
They are two faced sanctimonious
Buggers
Showing a regard for sophistry

It’s just a big illusion in a sense
The Bulls the plant
The decoy there for showing
The tanked up audience
Who now really can’t

Perceive the truth of what it is
They are seeing
It’s make believe
It’s ungenuine and cruel
A double cross to mystify
The idiots
Who must believe
That matadors now rule

The way they go along with all
This torture
Witness it and cannot see it
They
Are party to the murder of these innocents
Cut down in their prime and dragged away

We are in the market with these evil farts
Heartless senseless intoxicated fools
Leaning on the culture it’s not culture
It’s worse than seeing angels in the halls
Stabbed through bleeding out in front of children
It’s disingenuousness drivel in the face
Of what is terrible torture a butchering of spirit
Spain creates its Hell a dark disgrace

On all humanity, on every soul who sees this
And hears the rabid cries of those who say
This is our tradition we believe in it
This is our tradition and we pay
In Hell for it, for karma comes and enters
The spirit and the soul of those who go
And so support the infidels and rotten buggers who
Create this hell on earth within the show

Affirming to us all how much psychopathy
Has entered into the people now of Spain
How they sank in to an abyss of wretchedness
How they want and gloat on some souls pain
The perpetrators how they seek the glory
And get it lifted out on shoulders high
Bull fighting is an anathema there is no fight
It’s conspirators who boast and speak just so much shite

It’s so ugly so objectionable committing
Murder on the innocents today
Their blood loss and their anger and their agony
And That it is commonplace still today

Proves to me
That Spain is itself a cancer,growing in the heart of Europe
They,
have to rid themselves somehow of what we all can see
Watching healthy virile bulls spewing up great loads of blood
Their angered cries the terror eyes why now must it be

How is it people living there can call this entertainment
It’s the vilest cruellest nastiest evil one can ever see
It’s violence spreads across the various countries
And is quite simply pure malignancy