The Bull and the Fighter

The sun has become a burden The way it rises and sets Rises and sets And rises and sets Like the timepiece from my father From his father And his father Like the pen from uncle joe With the bull and the fighter You tip to one end and the bull charges forward Tip back and he's back again Oh, how I drew such wondrous things with that pen! Mountains, never ending Fountains, never drying Days, never dying I drew till my hands bled Tightly gripping my favorite pen And when the ink finally dried And the pen had no use I kept it Just to tip the bull back and forth Again and again The bull never tired The fighter never aged It taught me more about life Than life ever would And taught me more about death Than death ever could.