Toreador’s Waltz in Black

[Verse 1]
Red curtain smells like dust
Lipstick on a chipped glass rim
Laughs stuck to the velvet seats
All of them waiting for him
Gloves up to my shaking wrists
Mask tied a little too tight
I dance in a circle of whispers
To keep from sinking in night
[Chorus]
Welcome to the toreador’s waltz
Step one, give your blood to the crowd
Step two, wear a smile like a wound
Spin quiet, while the trumpets grow loud
Round and around on this cracked parquet floor
Who do you think that they’re clapping for?
Welcome to the toreador’s waltz
Where I’m the ghost they adore
[Verse 2]
Hearts pinned up like paper moons
Shadows lean close to the stage
Eyes shine like a hundred knives
Hungry for a little outrage
He bows, all charm and silver teeth
Tips his hat, calls out my name
I bow back, my ribs like a cage
He leads, but I feel the blame
[Chorus]
Welcome to the toreador’s waltz
Step one, give your blood to the crowd
Step two, wear a smile like a wound
Spin quiet, while the trumpets grow loud
Round and around on this cracked parquet floor
Who do you think that they’re clapping for?
Welcome to the toreador’s waltz
Where I’m the ghost they adore
[Bridge]
Three steps forward
Two steps back
One slow slip
Through a widening crack
If I stumble
If I fall
Will they ever
See me at all?
[Chorus]
Welcome to the toreador’s waltz
Step one, leave your name at the door
Step two, let them drink your fears
Till you’re a stain on the floor
Round and around till the room turns black
Face in the mirror, never looks back
Welcome to the toreador’s waltz
Where I’m the ghost they adore
[Outro]
Last turn, my heel on the edge
Last bow, my breath on his throat
The crowd roars, rising like smoke
As I swallow my final note

jazz, Smoky live-club vibe with female vocals; minor-key jazz waltz (in 3/4) led by haunted piano and bowed cello. Sax carries low, breathy countermelodies; muted trumpet answers vocal phrases like a ghost in the corners of the room. Dynamics swell from hushed, candlelit verses into a more theatrical, ominous chorus, then fall back to an intimate whisper. Final tag stretches over a lingering piano chord as cello slides down and brass fades into air., cello, theme