The Cazador

Oh Cazador, the Cazador
Running around mountain pastures chasing little wild pigs
You fool, decrepidating mass of flesh
Distracted by the flashing screens
Inhabiting the hinterlands
Ever on the outside looking in
You rode through the town of Vasilikos in your clattering machine
Chasing a white horse made of clay
Covering yourself with muck and clawing around as if it meant something
Making promises you wanted to believe
Then came the emptiness you had rejoiced
Then was your way blocked by waving steel bars as the flys descended upon you
The Cazador
Who was outside looking in
Flailing and ranting fool
Who fell roughly from your perch, to crawl in the filth of your blindness
Suddenly your sadness turns to anger
Your anger to madness
Cazador, they disapear
Covered in muck, oh Cazador
Dribbling all over yourself
Too sane for life, and too many dreams to cure the sadness
Just turn the anger inward, with a blast to your forehead and clear it all out
A clean slate
Cazador?
So sad you want to die?
Too many of us oh Cazador
One must be the first to go
The anger raging out is the cruelty of what you've done within
The madness began with love
As everything
Will be destroyed by love
Cazador