Sad little boy of the street

Hands of a thief

With the mind of a dreamer

Dodging the puddles with feet

Of a torero in an Arena

Sings an old Andalucian song

Dancing along

Using his dirty red coat as a cape



Rain thundering down

Sounds like the applause from

Hundreds of people

He feels free as the wind

Free as the swifts

Around the cathedral

Kneels to acknowledge his fame

Forgets all his pain

Little Toreador in the Rain



Bathed in a Rainbow of Pink

Purple and Blue outside La Molina

The pavement reflecting the neon

Lights this Torero in his arena

He looks down at his clothes

Imagining those

Worn of sequin, Gold and Brocade



He kneels and kisses the beast

Fearing the least

Knowing death will not find him

But maybe one day he will face

The Horns of the Devil

His childhood behind him



Brave young man from the streets

No more a thief

No longer a dreamer

Stands in front of the Beast

A golden Torero in an Arena

It starts to thunder and rain

Remembering that day

He danced like a fool on the wing of a dream



Sand turning to mud

Soon where his blood will splatter and mingle

Free, Free as an Angel

Up with the swifts

Around the cathedral

Never to be seen again

Dreams all in vain

There lies the Toreador in the rain



Little Toreador in the rain

Little Toreador in the rain