He was not mine,
he was not mine.

I saw him fall,
to the white sand.

In Pamplona,
there was a matador,
a king.

He swung the muleta,
every heartbeat was a scream.

Wish I was there,
wish I was there.

To turn the blade,
to wipe his tears,
to shield his bones,
and let the lightning gore my soul.

But nobody covers for a matador,
I am merely human.

My body covered in buttons,
can you feel the thunder,
when i bow and arch the veil?”

The stars are dull,
arching the sun,
it's getting late,
they've chained the moon.

Now bet your coins,
tapando la cara con la muleta,
the sun never rises on a matador.

“Oh, I am merely human
my body covered in buttons,
can you feel the thunder,
when i bow and arch the veil?”

Kneel, kneel,
spoliarium,
a place to heal.

Kneel, kneel,
to the angels in high heels.