The Bulls
The hatred in those blackened eyes
The thunder roarin when hooves collide
The air beneath the jumps and kicks
The spins and circles and brutal dips
The humps and horns and leather hot
The smell of hide and a winnin shot
The announcers voice so deep and loud
It’s time for the bulls and the crowd goes wild
They don’t know the thrill and pain
That they bring to this rodeo game
The fan support is off the charts
And the bulls and blood is where it starts
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