Mechanical Bull
Mechanical Bull, Panic Pull.
Loud crowds cheer at what we should desperately let go.
Yet your stubborn human heart holds on.
Eight seconds moves to nine–where was that time for me?
Tossing and turning, swaying like a drunk on that godforsaken bull,
Yet you stood completely still on my doorstep, slinking off into the night.
Calloused hands grip the harness, letting a machine control your motions.
Why do you fight so hard for what intends to buck you clean off?
Playing matador on a machine, fearing the commitment but craving the thrill.
Only the devil knows why you beg for this bruising payoff.
Mechanical Bull, stubborn and true,
Always throwing me off for you.