I threw a rose to the matador, not sure who I was cheering for My aim was true, my heart was full, I loved the fighter and the bull I loved like only a woman can, a very complicated man I bound his wounds, I heard his cries, I gave him truth, I told him lies His rage is made of many things: faithless women, wedding rings Snakes and snails and alcohol, his daddys fist thrown through the wall Ah but hes beautiful when hes in the ring, the devil howls, the angels sing Sparks fly from his fingertips and words like birds fly from his lips Some man is lyin in the dirt Some womans crying that hes hurt But hes not alive without the thrill Without the dance, without the k** The lights go down, the people roar Theyre cheering on the matador And this is how the story goes I knew it when I threw the rose I come to each and every show; the woman in the second row I watch them in their ancient dance and I know I never stood a chance Cause while other demons prance and clown, its vanity that takes you down I thought that I could be the one, but Im just another hanger-on Some man is bleedin in the dirt Some womans crying that shes hurt But who are we without the thrill Without the dance, without the k** And he is bull and matador And Im the mother and the who*e And this is how the story goes I knew it when I threw the rose I threw a rose to the matador, not sure who I was cheering for My aim was true, my heart was full; I loved the fighter and the bull