Torero

You lose sleep
On the newspapers
and mom threatens you
and dad gets angry.

They make you dizzy with these smokes,
looking at yourself in the mirror
you want to be the Bullfighter
like they do in Santa Fe,
like they do in Hollywood
and with this excuse, hey you, study no more.

Oh! Bullfighter,
you put on this hat,
saying you're Spanish when it's not true,
with castanets in your pocket you go dancing
mixing bolero and cha-cha.
Who do you want to impress.

Bullfighter,
with those South American sideburns,
with a Cuban cigar
and the ace of spades.
Bullfighter, bullfighter.
Ole!

They make you wear a short jacket, short,
and a tight waistcoat
and a little curl on your forehead.
You laugh at people behind
and you don't care.

You feel like Marlon Brando
who walks around
the streets of Santa Fe
the streets of Hollywood
and your lover doesn't want you anymore.

Hey! Bullfighter,
you put on this hat,
saying you're Spanish when it's not true,
with castanets in your pocket you go dancing
mixing bolero and cha-cha.
Who do you want to impress.

Bullfighter,
with those South American sideburns,
with a Cuban cigar
and the ace of spades.
Bullfighter, bullfighter.
Ole!

Oh! Bullfighter,
take off this hat,
you're not Spanish and not a gentleman,
you don't know how to play the castanets
and you who do you think you are,
beautiful son of a mother.

Bullfighter,
with those South American sideburns,
with a Cuban cigar
and the ace of spades.
Bullfighter, bullfighter.
Ole!

Ole!