Sad little boy of the street   Hands of a thief   With the mind of a dreamer   Dodging the puddles with feet   Of a torero in an arena   Sings an old andalucian song   Dancing along   Using his dirty red coat as a cape      Rain thundering down   Sounds like the applause from   Hundreds of people   He feels free as the wind   Free as the swifts   Around the cathedral   Kneels to acknowledge his fame   Forgets all his pain   Little toreador in the rain      Bathed in a rainbow of pink   Purple and blue outside la molina   The pavement reflecting the neon   Lights this torero in his arena   He looks down at his clothes   Imagining those   Worn of sequin, gold and brocade      He kneels and kisses the beast   Fearing the least   Knowing death will not find him   But maybe one day he will face   The horns of the devil   His childhood behind him      Brave young man from the streets   No more a thief   No longer a dreamer   Stands in front of the beast   A golden torero in an arena   It starts to thunder and rain   Remembering that day   He danced like a fool on the wing of a dream      Sand turning to mud   Soon where his blood will splatter and mingle   Free, free as an angel   Up with the swifts   Around the cathedral   Never to be seen again   Dreams all in vain   There lies the toreador in the rain      Little toreador in the rain   Little toreador in the rain