Isn’t it rich? are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air
Where are the clowns?
Isn’t it bliss? don’t you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can’t move
Where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns.
Just when I’d stopped opening doors,
Finally knowing the one
That I wanted was yours.
Making my entrance again with my usual flair
Sure of my lines, no one is there.
Don’t you love farce? my fault, I fear
I thought that you’d want what I want
Sorry, my dear, and where are the clowns
Send in the clowns
Don’t bother, they’re here.
Isn’t it rich? isn’t it queer?
Losing my timing this late in my career
But where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns
Well, maybe next year.
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