The Bulls
Read The Bulls lyrics by Marc Almond on LyroVerse, with linked artist context and related song paths.
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The Bulls
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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
What this page can answer fast
Who performs "The Bulls"?
Marc Almond performs "The Bulls", and this lyric page sits inside the Marc Almond catalog on LyroVerse.
Are there related songs to explore after "The Bulls"?
Yes. The related section below points to Abel And Cain and Baby Night Eyes with a short reason for opening each page next.
Where can I find more songs by Marc Almond?
Use the artist link near the top of the page or the related paths section below to keep moving through Marc Almond's lyric pages.
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