Stare into the Bull's eyes
And face this artificial reality
Because touching it feels like plastic
Living if that's what you want to call it
I've never been too keen to serve
And I can't say I ever liked living
Because I had to
I've always wanted to
But is it enough
To want to be
And am I enough
To be what I want?
Staring into the bull's eyes
And kick its bucket over
Because feeling is a brush
In touch with death
But are you enough
And is it enough
Am I enough
To hit the bull in its eye?