.10 Bull Horn

    Little Bird came down across the alley

Milky hands and a little pinch of gunpowder in her cheek

Lovely as paradise could be

In her knickers, tight and flavored

A ten cent pistol with some marked bullets

Rose, red and crimson

Waiting for a target

Behind the FBI doors

 Nods yes for what is beautiful

Nods yes to the mirrors

Take a shower stay clean

As a Matador you gotta wait

For the Raging Bull

And if he poke you with it’s horn

Slap him like a whale

 Sulky walking down the alley while the sun burns my skin

And turn the perfume into sweat

Turning black the domes that covers my eyes

Little Bird is waiting

For love, death or payback

Making light drip in her dark hair

Her shirt with a stamped photo

Of Sugar Ray Robinson

Shows me that

She is a

M A T A D O R

And i’m after her

With a shotgun i’ll travel

And a desire burning in my chest

And my pickup is blasting through the railroad

Like a Raging Bull

Little bird

Yo mama and dadda can pay for you tuition

But i can give you a pair

Of better pistols

Something good tonight can make you forget

The bleakness of days

Just relax and talk

Don’t mind with the blood on my face

This is a passive state

Talk and ignore the moments of delay

She’s there with the cigarette and lollipop in her hands

In a ruby room at fourteen street

Smell of booze, lonely sex and corpses on a Friday night

But i know she’s armed almost to her teeth

And i have to beware with her Taxi Driver behavior

It will be hard to avoid her Jake la Motta punches

And it is so exciting the way she changes suddenly

From sweet to deranged.

 Tide out

Hold your horses

Hold your streams

Just let it all flow when you’re sure

That will meet the sea

  Little bird gotta an acid kiss in her beak

Could cut my shoulder and offer her to cry

But i think gunpowder and alcohol are making me

A deadly lost cause

A horn, then another horn opening up the way through her door

She cough

Pistol shots

Bleeding skin

Little bird all dressed

As a Switchblade Knife

She smile and wait for me

Now i can do the

E S T O C A D A

Furniture in espectacular movement

Like a ballet of broken glass and wood pieces flying

Splits and roar as the pistols sing the song of their

Steel people

 Blood, flood

In a wave through the heart

Now your hands gripped around my thighs

I feel, well

Warm

 Little beautiful woman

Among the junkyards and toxic waste

Kissy kissy

Bloody taste, a little morphine

Here’s my arm, you can eat it

But let’s make this reciprocal

Lovely as the rain that sweetly falls from the skies

More two ten cent pistol shots

And maybe she can trust in a stranger

As she trusted in the first Matador

Who taught all she knows

The Matador and a Raging Bull (VIVA EL TORO)

Beautiful chaos

Every Friday at 27th avenue