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The Matadors

from Tim Brown & Friends by Tim Brown

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lyrics

On an autumn misty morning he came awake
he joined his friends back by the trail
it was dusty and the sweet green leaves
were dying, turning orange, red, and yellow

you could almost smell the rain coming in
roasting the breakfast on an open fire
if desires are the building blocks of sorrow
well by god, ellie, I'm this close to doomed

Broken down houses in a bad part of town
ain't nothin' but ourselves keepin us down
layin' on the groomed lawn of some beautiful family
a cop drives by and we realize it's 2 a.m.

In a dusty broken meeting house of matadors
with horns broken off in their chests
still waving red flags at mirages
needing a new way to survive our mess

in downtown races from rags to riches
a farmer wanders in amongst the crowd
why he wonders are there so many lonely
and why when low of self esteem, we act proud

Broken down houses in a bad part of town
ain't nothin but ourselves keepin us down
layin' on the groomed lawn of some beautiful family
a cop drives by and we realize it's 2 a.m.

we're just twisted poets at the gates of the promised land
twisted poets at the gates of the promised land

credits

from Tim Brown & Friends, released June 15, 2011
Written by Tim Brown

Guitar, Vocals, and Glockenspiel: Tim Brown
Saxophone: Willie Moore
Back Vocals: Shauna El-Jaimes
Back Vocals and Ebo: Matt Brown

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Tim Brown Minneapolis, Minnesota

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