El Matador

Taking the milkman to the capital city into the whirlpools
The matador
That's a tough sport, the judgment of the nightly arenas when one drinks

The foam dries at the corners of the mouth
The heat of Colombia rages in the veins
Now there's money, stimulant strength

The city night takes the man with it
Sleep won't come, it's so nice
Dosage in order, conscience cleared
Guilt is gone, damn I'm a star

The foam dries at the corners of the mouth
The heat of Colombia rages in the veins
Now there's money, stimulant strength
The matador