His scent was that of death foretoldAnd I had never smelled death beforeA potent mix of wet, wily mud and metaland chalky embers of…
The devil sits at its zenith Hell’s warmth embracinga bead of sweat escapesboth the man and the beastlocked and…
A muleta drapes over my chestthe ripples pass through with the windwhile we dance around this dusty plaza de toros…