MATADOR Songtext
von The Narcissist Cookbook

I remember asking him
Over one of the few joints we shared
And quite soon before his death, actually
How he′d dealt with his dad dying
When he'd been seventeen
And he said nothing for a long time

And then he said
"Dunno, just did
Parents die, Matt, that′s what they do, that's what they've always done"
I dunno, I guess I expected more
In fact, I could see that there was more
But he wasn′t up for sharing


I think he was like me
In a lot of ways
When something big and scary charges straight at you, you do not face it down
You sidestep it, like a matador
Let it tumble hoof over horns into the deep maze-like vault
That extends like tendrils of anthills for hundereds of miles beneath the surface
You trap the monsters behind that thick iron door, and you slam it closed
That′s how I am
That's who I am, by default
I learned it from him, I suppose

The Narcissist Cookbook is an attempt to counterbalance that impulse
It′s a reminder not to lock the scary things away
Whether they're bulls, or ghosts, or dragons
We don′t run from these things here
We don't dance around them
Ideally, we don′t even fight them
We just see them
Look directly at them
And try to understand them

I've been digging through the sand
Filling my bucket up with things that might be gold
And the skin on both my hands is rubbing raw
And the numbness is the only thing between me and the cold
But I ain't going home until I find something worthy of you
Washed up on the shore from somewhere out among the blue
I ain′t lonely
Got the beach comber blues
I got the beach comer blues


Sometimes, I swear I can hear the bull
Confused and frightened
Raking its hooves in the dark
Need to go down there eventually, I know I do
The songs almost finished

(Yeah, I′ve been digging through the sand)
(Keeping my eyes out for a shine among the stones)
Just one more go 'round
(The clouds are turning black, and I don′t need to be a sailor)
I think (to know how hard the west wind blows)
(But I ain't going home until I find something perfect for you)
Just one more (worthy isn′t good enough for me, the best will do)
(I ain't lonely)
(I got the beach comber blues)
(I got the beach comber blues)
(I got the beach comber blues)