I tried to get you out of the sun.
Then I tried to fight you off like a matador.
Then I was bored.

I tried to fly you back to the sun.
Then you were attacked by giant centipedes.
Now I'm set free
Now I'm set free
Now I'm set free.

-- Starlight Mints, "Matador"

I am really digging this song by this band from Norman, Oklahoma. It is all of two minutes and four seconds long, clever and strange and quite rocking. I've played it over probably 25 times in the last couple of days. I could check that for accuracy, but I am too lazy.

Fighting something off like a matador. Hmm. What an idea that is. The arena is set. The bull is imported, alone, out of place, vulnerable, nowhere to escape the conflict. The matador is dressed in his finery, with his cape and his sword, little doubt to the outcome of the match. There are paying customers who want to witness and cheer to the gory demise of something mighty and powerful.

There are also some who quietly root for the bull.

The matador enrages the bull, the bull attempts to give warnings, then is compelled to try to finish the matador off with a toss and impalement. The matador, supposedly with his superior intelligence, lightning-quick responses, and perfected timing, is to keep the show going, entertain, thrill the crowd with danger, until the moment comes when the danger is too close, too real. The bull must be stabbed, wounded into shock, sent to the beginning of his end.

Then I tried to fight you off like a matador.
Then I was bored.

Some battles are not so easy. Pick the wrong bull, Senor, and you have a bit more to deal with than you planned on. The thrill you get in the danger of facing down a simple and single-minded animal can turn to pee-pants terror on a dime. Sometimes it is you that has nowhere to run, and you get lanced by Ol' Beefy. As long as there is some kind of carnage, the crowd will be happy. But the bull, looking you in the eye, will never be able to understand why this happened, who you are in your silly tight satin pants, or why you want to bother or hurt him. He's just a bull, doing his bull stuff.

Then I was gored.

Ferdinand had the right idea. He's off sniffing flowers.

Who is set free?