Fighting The Bull

The guide asked us: 'Who is going to fight today?'
We said: 'We will,' like El Cordobes so they say,
There was no death, they were just young calves,
you might say that it was doing things by halves.

We slid down the corrida before our turn,
then I was called and it was time to learn,
time to realize that I was inferior to the bull,
who drew first blood and winked at me magical.

There were cheers as I left by the west gate,
ears of mine awarded for leaving things to fate,
now I knew what it was like to have darts in my back,
my tail between my legs going down the track.

I'll fight before you eat me, smile before you beat me,
if you don't move quickly, then you'll be history.