Text: Skyclad. Bewilderbeast.

See the brave toreador
Just look at him thrive off the crowd as they roar
For death brings a thrill
To the everyday lives of the non-com observers
Who gloat and chastise

My mind can't believe we maintain
This barbarous blood thirsty game

In their picturesque dwellings the aristo-classes
Spill blood that's not claret from cut-crystal glasses
Never once pausing to contemplate why
For vanity's victories innocents die

No better than bloodhounds
Hot on the scent
They butcher their prey
When it's energy spent

My mind can't believe we maintain
This barbarous blood thirsty game

Please show me this sportsman
You mention with pride
With his dog to defend him
And his gun at his side

If courage is the one thing
Your kind do not lack
Then why don't you hunt something
That can fight you back?

I see only cowardice ridden by guilt
And your hands won't wash clean of the blood they have spilt
What measure of madness makes you all so ill
That your passport to pleasure's a license to kill?

So I won't waste my time trying to understand why
For vanity's victories innocents die
'Cus you're all vicious bastards I'm sick of your crap
So I won't bat an eyelid when it's you in the trap

I still can't believe we maintain
This barbarous blood thirsty game