Bullfight horses

The senselessness of murdering bulls
Some 50,000 die
every year in so called fights
And that friends is no lie
In the last 10 years 10 Matadors
Every single bull
And countless numbers of horses
Which is really sinful

2 picadors 2 banderillos
A sword servant a matador
All together they are called
Cuadrilla don’t ignore
These are the rotten killers
They murder yes they do
And the horses many are gored to death
And this is also true

They make them wear then “peto”
But there is no protection there
It covers up the injuries
It hides the souls despair
Each horse is of course blindfolded
Its ears stuffed with cotton wool
Its vocal chords are often cut
So it cannot hear the bull
Cannot scream and cannot see
Its ridden into the ring
Imagine being gored alive
And you cannot see a thing

These are beautiful horses
And many of them die
Gored to death terrible injuries
And you may ask me why
Spain talks of its culture
And its tradition but we know
They are a bunch of sadists
And their insanity does grow

Its congenital behaviour
Deranged they clearly are
Its passed its fucking sell by date
And the demented star
As matadors and picadore’s
Who let their horses be
Gored and maimed and tortured
Which many do not see

Clearly they are in a stupor
A complete lethargy
Their artlessness their coarseness
Their impassivity
Unconscious in the moment
Unemotional as well
Callous and insensate
Monsters straight from hell

The suffering is immeasurable
The agony and pain
These horses gored and still must stand
And be gored and gored again
Its an unbelievable burden
They are martyrs of the ring
They whimper whine and sob and sigh
And nobody hears a thing

For the audience are happy
The scream with wild delight
For them it is a pleasure trip
Their heads filled up with shite
An orgy of blood lust and pain
As irksome as can be
Repulsive and so frightful
Steeped in hideosity

Its monstrous and its shocking
Inartistic and so rude
Truly a tasteless spectacle
Thats altogether crude
Only a bunch of barbarians
Would pay to watch this gore
Its a wickedness personified
For the animals its war

It alienates so many
Who are so affected by
The undoubted malediction
And thats no word of a lie
It is hatefulness and loathsomeness
Malicious through and through
And what they do to horses
Breaks my heart i do not kid you

So much ugly violence
The injuries so severe
The bulls charge into the sides of horses
Because they cannot hear
They cannot see
They cannot scream
They are lost in our sick world
Murdered for a pittance
In hell on earth are hurled

And its cultural entertainment
For the sicko’s subsidised
By the tourists and the government
Who haven’t realised
What a bunch of degenerates
They rule out there in Spain
In Portugal and in parts of France
I treat with such disdain

Their total lack of conscience
And improbity gone wild
Knavery and rascality
Some savage must have dialled
Complicity and treachery
Unprincipled insincere
Every adjective you can think of
Which can describe such fear

I shall never ever visit SPAIN the cruellest country
I know to allow bull fighting and bull running and horses so severely injured is not of this time
They should be thrown out of international dealings altogether until they can come into this present age