Are You The Matador?

Are you the matador?
Or are you the bull?
Are you the weapon
Or a tool?
Or are you a third thing
Something like air
That's felt and fluid and moving
Like a water that wasn't there?
There’s the seen and the unknown
The perfect haunting every time
The northern wires that get lost and tangled
Between the heart and the feel and the mind

The maps, books, music, love, the death and sex
Your voice gets lower the further you go
The moon crawls across the bed you sleep in
An orange bird hovers at your window
That's you there, isn't it?
I can see it in your eyes like scars
The barbed-wire of freedom is
Where the dark blurs fractured and constant and jagged at the edges of the threshold of every star
Where the dark blurs fractured and constant and jagged at the edges of the threshold of every star
You see, the barbed-wire of freedom is
Where the dark blurs fractured and constant and jagged at the edges of the threshold of every star