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lyrics

Last night, inside the fascist bar
We toasted the arrival of the matador
The tapas greasy, and the beer was warm
Juan and the barman talked
about the coming storm

I thought about the fight that I had seen
The barman made a joke, I even smiled a little
The heat was close, closer than we’d ever been
It made the conversation short and brittle

We climbed the spiral staircase to our room
It folded in around us like a tomb

Downstairs,‘LosToros’ played the ancient hits
The shutter caught the wind and
banged against the wall
One day, this thing is going to fall to bits
I wonder what the Bull had thought about it all
We sweated underneath the sheets
Eventually the rain brought some relief

We dreamed in images from the Spanish deep
The Matador paraded through my sleep

In the morning, in the market square
He passed alone, ten feet away now, I suppose
Though I remember him with shorter hair
I never saw the ring threaded through his nose
The storm had passed, the earth at peace
Still this dark foreboding, this unease
Then it hit me, I sensed his greedy eyes
The skin across his face was grey and bovine
I screamed –

and when he turned to say goodbye
The hand that he held out to me was cloven...

credits

from The Missing Pers​.​.​., released July 22, 2014

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The Missing Persians England, UK

Four men, originally from Oxford, play some songs written and sung by Chris. An Americana, bluesy vibe with harmonies aplenty. Third album on its way.

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