Sad little boy of the street Hands of a thief With the mind of a dreamer Dodging the puddles with feet Of a torero in an Arena Sings an old Andalucian song Dancing along Using his dirty red coat as a cape Rain thundering down Sounds like the applause from Hundreds of people He feels free as the wind Free as the swifts Around the cathedral Kneels to acknowledge his fame Forgets all his pain Little Toreador in the Rain Bathed in a Rainbow of Pink Purple and Blue outside La Molina The pavement reflecting the neon Lights this Torero in his arena He looks down at his clothes Imagining those Worn of sequin, Gold and Brocade He kneels and kisses the beast Fearing the least Knowing death will not find him But maybe one day he will face The Horns of the Devil His childhood behind him Brave young man from the streets No more a thief No longer a dreamer Stands in front of the Beast A golden Torero in an Arena It starts to thunder and rain Remembering that day He danced like a fool on the wing of a dream Sand turning to mud Soon where his blood will splatter and mingle Free, Free as an Angel Up with the swifts Around the cathedral Never to be seen again Dreams all in vain There lies the Toreador in the rain Little Toreador in the rain Little Toreador in the rain
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