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 That's what we are